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This story is a work of FICTION. While actual people and/or events may inspire some characters and situations, no implications are intended or should be drawn. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental.
THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF CONSENSUAL SEXUAL ACTS BETWEEN TWO ADULT MALES. IT IS INTENDED FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY! IF YOU FIND THIS TYPE OF MATERIAL OFFENSIVE, IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, OR UNDER THE LEGAL AGE TO VIEW SUCH MATERIAL THEN PLEASE READ NO FURTHER.
Copyright 2007-2009 All original material contained here within is copyrighted by the author, Cameron Maxx, and may not be reproduced in any form without express written consent. The Nifty Archive is granted a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancelable license to display this work.
PLEASE NOTE: Feedback, both positive and negative, is welcomed and greatly appreciated. Abusive correspondence or flames of any kind will, of course, be strictly ignored - cameron.maxx@gmail.com
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INTRODUCTION
I know, I know. Another long delay in between chapters. All I can say is that I'm sorry ... again.
As some of you already know, I had surgery back in December. I was thinking that all the down time that would be part of recovery would allow me to churn out two or three chapters. I have limited mobility for about 10 weeks thanks to the surgery, so what better way to spend my time sitting around then writing, right? Wrong. It would seem the creative muse was kept at bay by the pain, medication, and just plain exhaustion.
It was really Alex's dream sequence that pulled me back into the story. I had a dream that was similar in its tone of loneliness and hopelessness and wanted to capture that feeling on paper. I guess enduring a major medical procedure can have weird effects on your psyche.
By any means, I hope you enjoy this new chapter and yes, I've already started working on the next one. Hopefully it won't be more than a few weeks before it's posted. And, for all of you who've been asking about the sex scene, your wait is almost over. It's coming (no pun intended) in chapter nine.
-Cameron
CHAPTER 8
It was a little after 11:00 in the morning; Saturday had dawned gray and overcast. A rainy, cold northern front had blown in overnight and brought with it unseasonably cool temperatures that now stood in the low 50's. With the rain and gusty breezes, it felt colder. As Josh and I helped my mom load everything into the car from the beach house a gloomy, forbidding mist began to roll in from the Gulf. Anything sitting outside was quickly coated with a thin sheen of water. The weather reflected my mood, melancholy and sullen. I'd gotten out of bed as Josh still slept, careful not to stir him. I'd showered and packed before waking him. Neither of us had spoken much. The drive back to Villette had been quiet as well, my mom being the only one who spoke from time to time.
Now I stood by the car watching her talk to Josh and hug him goodbye. Finnigan, her old cat, lazily watched the proceedings from the sidewalk. Her fur was damp in the mist, but she seemed willing to suffer that just to be close to my mom who'd been away longer than Finn would have preferred.
They hugged a final time before Josh turned and got into the car. I walked over to where my she was standing and put an arm around her shoulders. "Are you going to be okay?" I asked.
"Oh, yes."
"Okay."
"In fact, I've been thinking I might be quite busy over the next month or so."
"Really?" I inquired, looking down at her.
"Yes. I've been thinking, if it's all right with you, I might start cleaning out this house. Maybe sell a few things, give a few things away, and then put it on the market."
I was a little surprised. "So you're thinking you want to be in the Rockport house full time?"
"I think I do," she said. "It's more than enough space for me and it just feels right. I like being there. Having you boys there with me the last few days made me realize just how much I like it."
"Well, then ... I think that's what you should do."
"So you don't have any problems about me selling your childhood home?"
"No."
"I didn't figure you would, but I thought I'd ask."
"I appreciate it. But, I think you should go ahead with your plan. It sounds like a good idea to me."
"The land is probably worth more than the house now," she said shaking her head and sounding a little sad.
"Maybe, but you can't take it personally. You and dad built this house a long time ago and Villette grew up around you."
"I know. It was just such a nice house in its day."
"It's still a nice house," I assured her. "Besides, either way I'm sure between the land and the house you'll make a nice little wad of cash."
She laughed. "I'm sure you're right."
"Okay, we have to get going."
"I know, I know..."
"I love you," I said, hugging her.
"I love you, too."
After a moment, I stepped back and smiled at her. "Call me," I said. "I mean it. You call or e-mail whenever you feel like it. Don't worry that you're bugging me. Plus, Joshua is around the house a lot, too. I'm sure that after the last few days he'd be happy to hear from you as well."
"Don't worry about me. I've got your number."
"Okay?"
She looked at me a moment, then smiled and nodded. "Okay."
"Okay," I confirmed before turning and walking to the car. I opened the door and settled in. I turned to Josh sitting in the passenger's seat. "You ready?"
"Ready."
I backed the car down the long driveway and into the road. My mom had picked the cat up and was petting her absent-mindedly, watching us depart. She raised a hand and waved goodbye. We both waved back.
Walking west down 89th Street, away from 1st Avenue, the last few dead leaves that were on the trees finally fell, twisting slowly and lazily as they did, dancing around me as another New York autumn slid slowly into winter. The sun had just set on the western horizon, sliding first into and then behind the impossibly tall buildings of the Manhattan skyline that marched in line from Battery Park north up the island for hundreds of blocks, broken only by the green of Central Park. There was a chill in the early evening air and I could see short, hazy bursts of breath as I exhaled. The shadows now stretched into pools of darkness and the temperature continued to drop. In that moment I knew I was not only alone, but lonely.
I was on my way to Lexington Avenue, where I'd turn left and walk a few blocks down to catch the subway. But, before I'd even crossed 2nd, I turned my head to look across the street towards the noise that had caught my attention. There was a bar there, on the street level of one of those beautiful, old, red brick walk-ups that lined the street. Facing out towards 89th, where the smaller pre-war windows had been, they'd cut large openings in the brick that had huge shutters on them. They were swung open, allowing the cool night breeze in and the chattering and clinking of glasses out.
I felt drawn to the place. I'd seen it before, but never open. It had always been dark and quiet, with the shutters closed and latched. But now a warm, mostly candle-lit glow radiated out onto the street. I checked for traffic before stepping out into the street. As I crossed and got closer, I could see the interior was decorated mostly in deep, rich reds. Heavy, luxurious curtains and tapestries hung around the shutters and on the walls. Oversized booths ran along the walls, their seats lined in thick, worn leather that was such a dark red that it was really more of a brown. The tables and the huge serving bar that was near the back wall were all made from a deep, hearty mahogany that was at once stately and inviting. As I stepped up onto the opposite sidewalk, I thought the place seemed out of place, even here amongst the tree-lined streets of the Upper East Side with its old money and stately town homes. It looked more like a fine pub or club that exuded an old world charm; it should be tucked into some cozy, ancient corner of London.
I passed through the open door and over the threshold where I paused for a moment, blinking my eyes as the adjusted to the flicking candlelight. There were people in the booths, enjoying their drinks, laughing and talking. A server went past, carrying a tray of beer in thick, frosty mugs. No one looked up or acknowledged my entrance. I felt an odd sensation. It was like I was there, but not quite. I sensed that I was standing behind a gauzy, sheer curtain that I could see through, but others could not. I scanned the small public room, trying to figure out what had drawn me in. My gaze settled on the very last booth. It was so far back along the wall that it was actually behind the big bar. The breath caught in my throat.
Josh sat alone in the booth. His eyes were focused on me, as though he'd been sitting there for ages, just waiting for me to walk in and see him. I felt a stabbing, aching grief lodge in my chest. I longed for him and there in that queer, somehow just out of synch moment, loneliness welled in me like I'd never felt before. It was physical and it was almost overpowering and I nearly buckled under its weight.
I moved towards him, but I wasn't walking. It was like I glided towards him, my limp feet hanging just a half-inch above the floor, moving smoothly and quickly, like a dolly shot in a movie with the camera tracking steadily beside me. My vision narrowed and the booths and conversations that I passed faded on the sides. He was all I saw. I arrived at the booth and was then seated in it, again with no sense of movement on my part. I was just there, peering into his eyes as he peered back.
"Where have you been?" The words sounded harsh but far away, like something whispered through a megaphone.
"Waiting for you," he answered simply and without emotion.
"Why are you here?"
"You sent me here."
"I don't understand," everything was unraveling, my stomach twisted and I thought I must be dreaming.
"You sent me here," he said again.
"Joshua, I don't understand. What do you mean, I sent you here?" The edges were fraying and this reality was slipping away from me quickly.
"You sent me away. You sent me here."
"How did I send you away?" I felt like I was screaming, trying to catch my breath. "Why would I do that?"
"You sent me away."
I blinked and suddenly he was standing next to the booth, no longer seated in it. I was fighting off the sick, tickling panic that was creeping into my brain. "Josh, I didn't send you away. I wouldn't do that, I..."
"Yes, you did," he cut me off. "I have to go now."
"What?" but he'd already started to move away from me. I turned, rising from the booth as I did. The place looked huge now, and the crowd had multiplied. There must have been hundreds of people and Josh was already way ahead of me, threatening to disappear into the crowd.
"Josh!" I cried, trying to scream, but it came out a tortured groan. "Josh, please wait!"
I moved after him, but the going was slow. The crowd now seemed even bigger and pressed in all around me. The room had stretched out into an impossibly long cavern and the threads of this world were starting to show, stretching and elongating like taffy being pulled. This thin version of reality was falling apart around me and I knew I was dreaming; I had to be dreaming.
Even as some part of my mind realized this wasn't real, the other, panicked part still raced for the figure that was moving further and further away from me. I was desperate to reach him, to bring him back. I'd missed him for so long. "Josh," I screamed again.
I screamed myself awake; I hollered my way home and my body jerked hard in my own bed, the sheets and pillow soaked with sweat. I shut my mouth biting down hard, so hard that I could hear the clap of my teeth as the top row hit the bottom, to keep from screaming again. The scream died in my throat as I gripped the sheets in my fists and fought to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.
There was no light coming through the windows. I looked to the alarm clock on the bedside table. It read 3:21 AM; too early for dawn to have broken, too late to get a full night's sleep. I sat up and swung my feet onto the floor. I rested my head in my hands, my elbows on my knees. My hair was still wet with sweat and my breathing was faster than normal. I took a deep, shuddering breath. That crushing feeling of loneliness had begun to fade, but it was still too close and I felt raw and on edge.
I had a grinding headache starting to set in and there was one word, barely articulated, on my lips. That word was, of course, "Josh..."
It had been nearly a month and a half since my father's funeral. Thanksgiving was just a couple of weeks away and the California weather was getting cooler. The nights in particular were noticeably chillier but the days only modestly so. It was hard to ignore that it really felt like summer all the time. But, a west coast winter could be healing. And it had proven to be so for me. I was busy from the moment the plane landed in LAX. I was working on touching up another script, this one for a film that would be shooting at Warner Brothers in the spring, and my classes were going well, too. Staying busy seemed to keep me from thinking about Villette or my father and that, in turn, helped me work everything out in my head and move on.
Josh was busy, too. In addition to his classes, he'd joined an intramural soccer league that met for practices on Monday and Wednesday evenings and played matches on either Friday nights or Saturday afternoons. He'd always loved sports and had played football, soccer, and baseball in high school. He's also run track for a couple of years. But, it was soccer and baseball that he really loved. Some of the guys on his soccer team and a few of the girls on the female intramural team had bonded over their shared love of the game and would meet a few times a month for a friendly game of co-ed softball on campus. From that group as well as from people he'd met in his classes, he quickly formed a new group of friends his age here in Southern California. I wasn't surprised. Considering his looks and that almost undeniable, intensely likable charm of his, people always flocked to him. He was open and quick to smile and, in general, just fun to be around. Although we spend less time together now than we had before, we still usually had dinner together on Tuesdays and Thursdays when he'd beat me home since his classes ended earlier those days than mine. And, I'd almost always make it to his soccer games to cheer him on.
On the flight back from Texas, as he'd slept, I thought a great deal about what had happened between us in Villette and decided it had gone too far. I should have stopped it sooner. But, I reasoned it was a very emotional time for me, and I had simply needed comfort. And Josh, in turn, gave me that comfort. As he always did, he gave me his all, opening both his heart and his body to me, and keeping me from falling over the edge. However, the bottom line was, there was no future for us, nor should there be. Not only was there an age difference, there was an entire generation gap. Plus, Abbey had entrusted me to be his caretaker, to look after him and provide him a safe home while he was at UCLA. And that's what I planned to do from here on out. I would enable him socially any way I could; I'd encourage him to meet people his own age, make friends, and date. Whether it was a girl or a guy, whoever he wanted to be with, that was fine with me as long as they made him happy. But, I needed to draw a line for both of us and then not allow myself to cross over that line, and that's what I did.
I decided not to have a conversation with Josh about this decision of mine. I decided that I should just firmly, but gently, make it clear to him that what had happened in Villette could not happen again. I trusted that he'd pick up on what was happening and simply come to the same conclusion I had: that this was for the best. We need not go any further down that road.
I made sure that I was always fully dressed in his presence and didn't allow myself to drink too much when we were together in the evenings. Only a glass or two of wine or just a couple of beers; the more sober I was, the less chance I'd make a bad judgment call. The few times he did try to kiss me, I'd turn my head and let his lips just touch my cheek. Or, if there wasn't enough time, I'd accept his lips on mine, but only briefly and I was sure to keep them sealed. If he reached for my hand, I'd take his, but only to squeeze it gently before withdrawing my own. Several nights a week, I'd still be awakened to him sliding into bed with me. However, I would always have my boxers on and had also taken to wearing a tee shirt to bed as well. I'd let him snuggle against me and pull my arm around him, but I'd hold him just long enough to ensure he was asleep before carefully taking my arm back and rolling to the far side of the bed, making sure no part of my body was touching his.
Within a week or so, he'd stopped reaching for my hand or trying to kiss me. As more time passed, he spent more time away from the house and with his new friends. I was pleased. I thought I'd successfully navigated the situation and had ever so softly guided him away from me and into something better for him. I thought he understood. I was wrong.
It was a Friday night and Josh had a game. We'd made plans to go out for a late dinner with some of his friends afterwards. He'd been at me about meeting them for some time, but I had always found a reason not to. I told myself it was because they were his friends and he needed that life outside of me. That was part of it, but truth be told, there was more, too. I was also insecure about being with a group of people who'd all be 10 to 15 years my junior. What would the conversation be like?
But, I'd put it off long enough and this particular week I had no good excuse not to go. I left campus earlier than usual on Friday as I had a meeting with the director and some production people at Warner about the new script I was working on. It was turning into a job I wish I hadn't taken. The original script was, quite frankly, just plain bad. So, the touch up work I'd been ask to do was growing into an almost complete re-write. I decided I needed to sit down with them and lay it all out on the table. Do you want me to keep going this direction or not is what I needed to know. If not, I might have to say thanks but no thanks, take my upfront, and walk away from the rest of the money the job would have provided.
The meeting turned into a heated debate between several different factions of people who were involved in the production and I realized it was going to take longer than I'd thought. I sent a quick text message to Josh letting him know that I wouldn't be able to make it to the game. I asked if he wanted to go to dinner without me. He response came almost immediately - no. He'd wait for me at the field and then we'd meet up with the group at the restaurant.
It was almost 9:00 by the time I finally got a way from the Warner offices and traffic on the freeway was still bad thanks to a late in the rush hour wreck that was still blocking one lane. It took me nearly half an hour to get to UCLA to pick him up. When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw him sitting on a bench under one of the street lamps. He'd already showered and changed and was wearing jeans and a loose tee. His bag sat on the ground between his feet. I smiled despite myself. After the long, drawn out meeting it was good to see him. I was keenly aware that we weren't spending as much time together as we had and though I could try to deny it and push it down, the fact was that I missed him. He threw his bag in the back before opening the front door and hopping in.
"Hey," I said cheerily.
"Long meeting?" he asked sullenly, not looking at me.
"Yeah, I'm really sorry about that."
"It's fine. Let's go."
"Okay," I said, trying to ignore his tone. "Where to?"
"The Apple Pan, on Pico Boulevard," he answered.
"I thought you guys usually went to Nate 'n Al's on Beverly? I was looking forward to a good Rueben," I said as we pulled out onto the street and headed away from campus.
"We do," he said. "But there was some debate tonight. Ali and Katie both really wanted burgers and pie, so we decided on The Apple Pan."
"Well, a burger sounds good, too."
He didn't respond and just looked out his window. I sensed something was not quite right but knew him well enough not to push the issue. So, the rest of the drive was mostly silent. I got us to the restaurant in good time and there was, surprisingly, plenty of parking available. As we walked in, someone shouted, "Josh!" and we both turned in that direction.
"Hey, over here." A girl stood and waived from a big, oversized booth in one of the back corners. Josh smiled and waived back. He started towards them and I followed. There were eight people sitting around the oval shaped table. He arrived at the table and hugged the girl who was still standing. Then everyone squeezed in and scooted to the right, making room for Josh and myself to be seated as well.
Josh spoke quickly, "Everybody, this is Alex." Hellos and greetings were given and I nodded and smiled. Then he went around the table, from left to right, and introduced me to everyone. First, there was Clark and Amy. They were a couple that had grown up together near San Diego and had been dating since high school. Next was Kristen, from Oregon, who was currently single and rolled her eyes when Josh said that she was working hard to change that. The rest of the table laughed. Then there was Jackson. He played on the team with Josh and I noted that he looked me in the eye when introduced, but was the only one not to smile. Then, there was Nate and Andy, a couple who'd been together since they'd met during their freshman year at UCLA. Nate played on the team with Josh, Clark, and Jackson. Finally, there was Ali and Katie. They'd been dating for about a year and it was Katie who had waved us over before hugging Josh. I knew from previous conversations with him that they'd become close and that she was probably his best friend in the group.
"So, Josh tells us you were late because you're working on a movie," Amy said.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that."
"No!" she exclaimed. "You'd think, since I grew up in California, I wouldn't care about movies and celebrities, but I do. I'm totally obsessed with all of that. I feel like I'm talking to a celebrity right now."
Everyone laughed. I did, too. "No, no," I assured her. "Just because I've met a few celebrities, doesn't mean I am one. I'm really just a teacher who makes a little extra money by playing make believe from time to time with Hollywood."
"What can you tell us about the one you're working on right now?"
"Not much really. It's scheduled to start shooting at Warner next spring, but right now there are a lot of script problems. That's why the meeting tonight went so long. No one can seem to agree on what the fucking thing's about."
And so the conversation went. I liked Amy and her little girl enthusiasm. Clark seemed like a really good guy, too. They fit together and it wasn't hard to imagine them with a nice house in the suburbs and a couple of kids in a few years. I also found Kristen, Andy, and Katie very easy to talk to. We discussed movies, book, all kinds of stuff and it was a pleasant surprise to find that the age differences that had worried me seemed to be a non-issue.
While we were still working on burgers, Josh grabbed my arm and turned me towards Ali. "Hey," he said. "Explain to her about the house. She's an architecture major and is really interested in the reuse and renovation of old buildings."
"Josh says you bought and converted an old warehouse. Is that right?"
"Yeah, pretty much," I answered.
"How did that come about?"
"Uh, you know, I don't really know, actually. I was new to the area and just knew I wanted to be close to campus and didn't want anything too traditional."
"Nothing too traditional about an old warehouse," she laughed.
"No," I smiled. "Not too traditional at all."
And so Ali and I discussed the process I'd gone through and how I'd chosen to use as much recycled and repurposed materials as possible in the renovation. She was very knowledgeable, more so than I was in fact, and I found the others joining in the conversation, too. Clark and Amy, the sweet couple from the San Diego suburbs, confessed that while they thought it was cool, they could never imagine themselves living in an old warehouse with concrete floors. That surprised no one.
By the time we'd all ordered the famous apple pie, the only person who hadn't spoken directly to me was Jackson. He'd mostly talked to Josh and Nate about the game. I had caught him watching me, almost studying me, on several occasions. When I would catch him doing so, he made no attempt to look away or pretend that he was doing anything other than looking at me. I found it a little disquieting and was already starting to dislike him.
As the waitress walked away from the table to place the pie order, there was a momentary lull in the conversation. That's when Jackson finally addressed me directly. "So, Alex," he started, "what exactly is it with you and Josh?"
I noticed some uncomfortable shuffling at the table. "I'm sorry?" I asked him.
"Well, I mean, we've all been wondering why exactly a 35 year old man like yourself is letting a 20 year old like Josh live for free in his downtown loft if it's not for the sex, which Josh says it isn't."
I was speechless. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so caught off guard by someone. There was more nervous shuffling and a few low murmurs around the table.
"You'll have to excuse our friend Jackson here," it was Ali and she was giving him a cold look. "He can be a bit of a prick sometimes and for some reason nobody likes to point that out."
"Fuck off, Ali." Jackson returned her cold stare. "Don't pretend like you're not curious. You just don't have the dick required to ask the question," he turned back towards me, "but I do."
Ali's intervention had given me the time I needed to compose myself, fight back my initial surprise and anger, and figure out just what I wanted to say to him. "My first question would be, if you're so curious, have you asked Josh?"
"Yeah, I've asked him. He says you're just a good guy, like a big brother."
I turned and looked at Josh. His head was down, staring at his lap. There was a slight blush to his cheeks. That made me even angrier at this whole situation. "Well, then. There you have your answer. We've known each other a long time and I'd be lucky to have a little brother like him."
Jackson was still meeting me eye to eye. "Yeah, but c'mon. I'm not stupid. A gay guy your age with some boy as cute as him living with you day in and day out, it's got to have crossed your mind. And we all know how he talks about you and see the way he looks at you. So, it's a fair question. What are you to each other? Boyfriends? Fuck buddies? No one here's going to judge you."
"That's enough, Jackson." This time it was Nate who stepped in. "Come on, man. You're embarrassing Josh. That's not cool."
"Thank you, Nate," I said then turned back to Jackson. "I'm not worried about being judged," my voice turned colder before continuing, "and I certainly don't need your approval for anything I do or don't do. But, Nate is right, and as for as I'm concerned if you've already spoken to Josh about this and if he's already answered your question, then I've got nothing left to say to you about it."
"Here comes the pie!" Katie interjected, sounding desperately happy about the arrival of dessert.
"Awesome!" Amy chimed in. "This is the best pie in the whole world."
"Totally," Clark agreed.
"Oh, man - it's been too long since I had a piece of apple pie," I said, happy to have changed the subject. I reached over under the table, taking Josh's hand in mine, and squeezed it softly. He looked at me and gave me a half smile that looked more weary than relieved.
We ate our pie and the conversation went back to more or less normal. There was laughter from time to time, but there was still a sense of unease that was hard to ignore. I was careful not to make eye contact with Jackson. I'd had enough of him for one night.
It was well after midnight by the time we'd all finished up. I grabbed the check and paid for the entire table. Most everyone tried to object, but I insisted. "Listen," I said, "I remember what it was like to be a broke college kid. And yes, I know you aren't all broke. But, thanks to my Hollywood make believe side job, I'm a little better off than I used to be, so let me do this as a thank you for making me feel so welcome here tonight." They all smiled and said their thanks. "My pleasure," I said, before adding, "but don't get used to it. This is a treat!" They laughed. Well, all of them except Jackson. He neither laughed nor did he offer a thank you. That was fine with me.
Before parting ways in the parking lot, I got hugs from Amy, Kristen, Katie, and Andy. Clark, Nate, and Ali all shook my hand.
"Sorry again about Jackson," Ali said quietly while shaking my hand. "If it were up to me, he wouldn't be part of our little group."
"No worries," I said. "I have learned to deal with my fair share of assholes in the movie business." She smiled and nodded.
Josh was still quiet on the ride home and spent most of it peering out of his window.
"You okay?" I finally asked.
"Yeah," he said.
"Did I do okay?"
"Yeah, everyone liked you. I told you there was nothing to worry about. Everyone always likes you."
I thought for a minute. "I'm not so sure Jackson liked me."
"That's just the way he is. Besides, all he was trying to do was figure things out, that's all."
I almost decided to ask him what exactly he meant by that, but decided to let it go. A few minutes later, we pulled into the garage and Josh pulled his big duffel bag from the back as I opened the door into the foyer. He brushed past me and headed directly through the living room before disappearing into his bedroom.
"Okay," I said under my breath.
Kicking my shoes off, I headed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator before heading into my own bedroom. It had been a long day and I was tired. I threw my clothes in the hamper and then stepped into the shower. I let the hot water pour over my body and inhaled a deep breath. I took another drink from the bottle. The cold beer and hot shower were starting to work. My body relaxed as I tried to not worry about what might be wrong with Josh or what the attitude was about. I'd met his friends. I'd put up with Jackson. I didn't really know what more he wanted from me.
I finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, leaving the empty beer bottle on the slate covered bench inside. I toweled off before pulling on a pair of boxers. I walked into the bedroom and stood at the foot of my bed, staring down at it, thinking about the day.
"It was a fair question."
"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed, jerking in shock. I whipped around to find Josh standing there, no more than three feet away from me, dressed only in a pair of white Calvin Klein briefs. "Fuck," I said. "You scared the shit out of me, Josh."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to."
"Just a little warning next time, okay?"
"Okay."
I breathed in, long and slow, allowing my pulse to get back to normal before looking at him standing before me. His beautiful, smooth body was slumped slightly at the shoulders; his shaggy hair fell around his face that looked sad and lost. I fought an inclination to reach out and wrap my arms around him, pulling his body to mine.
Instead, I remained motionless and asked, "Josh, buddy ... what's wrong?"
His eyes met mine. "It was a fair question," he said again.
"What?" I asked a little harsher than I'd intended, becoming annoyed. "What was a fair question?"
"Jackson's."
"What are you talking about? That guy is a total dick!"
"No, he's not. He just asked what I was too afraid to ask. He asked because he knows me and how I feel about you and that I would never ask the question myself."
"What does he know, Josh?"
"Pretty much everything," he answered quietly.
"Everything?"
"Yeah, everything. What happened in Villette, what's happened since we've come back, and how it all makes me feel."
"Why would you talk to him about that?"
"He's my friend."
"Why not Katie or someone else? Why fucking Jackson?"
"This is not about him, Alex!" he was suddenly loud and his voice very firm. He moved towards me so that our chests were almost touching then took both my hands in his. He looked up at me and said, "this is about us."
"Josh, there is no us," I said, pulling my hands away from his. "There can't be, you need to..." he cut me off in mid-sentence when he pressed his lips to mine, kissing me hard, his tongue pushing for admittance.
"Stop it, Josh!" I pulled away, moving my head away from his.
"Why are you so standoffish with me?" he nearly screamed. His voice cracked and his Texas accent, normally mild, was strong. The word me came out sounding more like may.
"Josh, I..." but he was already in motion. Both his hands hit me hard in the chest, knocking the words out of my mouth and the oxygen from my lungs. I was standing too close to the end of the bed and his push was too sudden; I didn't have time to compensate or brace myself so I fell backwards onto the mattress, landing hard on my ass. I would have kept going, right onto my back, if I hadn't thrown my elbows back to brace myself.
"You won't touch me. You pull away like you're disgusted by me," his voice was still on the verge of yelling and he sounded ragged and exhausted. I looked up at him and was shocked to see tears streaming down his face.
"Josh, please..." He cut me off again.
"No! You have no idea what it's been like since we've gotten back, Alex. I'm miserable and the worst of it is I don't even know why. What did I do?" He looked down at me, his face a mask of pain that broke my heart. He absently used the back of his hand to wipe his tear stained face. "What did I do, Alex?"
I had no answer, only stunned silence. I opened my mouth, and then closed it again.
"What did I do?" he asked again. Then he shook his head and brayed a harsh, little laugh before turning and starting out of the room. I remembered the bar in my dream, I remembered him walking away into the crowd and knew immediately I had to stop him. I had to stop this right now.
"Josh, wait!"