DISCLAIMER: You are about to read a story that is strictly FAN FICTION and in no way represents true accounts. I do not - nor do I wish to imply that - I know Jake Gyllenhaal, his private life or his sexual preferences. This is also true of all other celebrities represented in this story. This is a work of fiction based in homo-eroticism, so if you are not of legal age, or if this type of content might offend you, please move onto something else.
For everyone else - ENJOY! --------------------------------------------------------------------
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PART 16 --------------------------------------------------------------------
Rippled reflections undulated across the ceiling from the pool below, entrancing me as I lay there naked beneath the sheets, hands tucked up under my head, my eyes transfixed on the hypnotic pattern above me. Although my body was beyond tired, I'd only been able to sleep for a short time.
Jake was lightly snoring beside me, his back turned, his upper torso bare above the rumpled sheets. I watched the steady rise and fall of his broad shoulder for a moment, reveling in his presence, remembering the passion we'd shared just a few hours ago, coupled with the half-spoken words of love, the sentiment so strong for me despite my inability to get the words out. It was a powerful, irrefutable sensation, one I couldn't ignore.
The fact that I still felt a tinge of apprehension frustrated me. Why couldn't I express my love to him without suffering an anxiety attack? It baffled me. I'd never had so many issues with articulating myself.
Gingerly, I reached out a hand and touched Jake's skin, hoping not to wake him, my fingers gently gliding down the length of his arm. Then I carefully slid out from under the sheets and tip-toed from the room, heading into the guest room where I'd left my belongings earlier. Digging around in the dark, I found my pack of Camels, cursing myself for needing it but craving the nicotine nonetheless.
Not bothering to dress, I descended the stairs and slipped out onto the back patio. Thankfully, the dogs were asleep somewhere and so didn't notice my departure. I chose a cushioned wrought-iron chair to sit in, grabbing one of the empty martini glasses to use as an ashtray.
Before lighting up, I took a moment to take in the night. It was incredibly quiet. For being an expansive neighborhood within such a large city, I was impressed by its serenity. The air carried a scent of blooming bushes and fruit trees, reminding me of someplace tropical that I had never been. The sky was starless and overcast. I vaguely wondered how often Jake had the pleasure of seeing the constellations. Thought that the ranch was probably much better suited for that.
"What are you doing?"
The voice startled me, almost pulling me from my chair. I turned my head and found Jake at the sliding glass door, halfway in, halfway out, his arms crossed as if to keep himself from shivering. Just like me, he was naked as a jaybird.
"Just getting some fresh Los Angeles air," I replied. Thinking twice about the cigarette, I shoved it, along with my lighter, between the cushion and the chair.
"It's cold," he complained.
I chuckled. "This is cold to you? It's balmy compared to Colorado this time of year."
"Yeah, well . . ." he paused. "I'm a California boy."
Atticus and Boo pushed past his legs, running out into the yard to relieve themselves in the bushes.
I stretched out an arm and beckoned him over. "Come here, then," I suggested. "I'll warm you up."
Without a second thought, he sauntered over, his cock swaying between his legs. My eyes were instantly drawn there - couldn't help it. Once in front of my chair, he braced his hands on the arms and leaned down to meet my upturned face in a kiss. It lasted for just a moment, and then he pulled back, looking into my eyes, his blue orbs tired and bloodshot.
"What's on your mind?" he asked quietly.
"What do you mean?" It was a ridiculous question, I knew, but for some reason I asked it anyway.
"I mean," he said, "why are you sitting by my pool alone and naked at three o'clock in the morning?"
I ran my hands over his taut biceps, wanting to concentrate on his close proximity and nothing else. "No reason," was my simple reply.
He peered down at me for a moment longer, then sighed and pulled up a chair to sit and face me. Placing his hands on my knees, he said, "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on in your head."
I looked away, feeling uncomfortable, as if suddenly placed on the witness chair in a courtroom. He cupped my chin between his fingers and turned my face to him again. "Talk to me," he repeated, this time more firmly.
As he released his hold, I sighed. Stared off over his shoulder to the pool beyond. My voice was choked. "My head's just filled with a lot of shit right now."
"Why?" he asked. "Austin? My hesitation coming out?"
"It's all that and more," I mumbled. Looked down. Plucked at the hair on my legs with nervous fingers.
He waited for me to continue, but when I didn't, he became irritated. "I said I loved you," he spoke sternly. "I fucking meant it. Even if I'm not ready to tell the tabloids."
I looked at him but said nothing.
"And Austin'll get over things," he continued. "So don't concern yourself with that."
"Trust me, I'm not concerned with him," I mumbled.
My flippancy didn't go unnoticed. With furrowed brow, he said, "What's going on? Why the freak-out on the stairs?"
I shook my head. Stared off in to space again. The dogs approached, and Atticus nudged at my hand, wanting attention. Absently, I scratched his ears.
"Have you ever had an experience that left you feeling completely lifeless and hollow?" I asked quietly.
The question hung heavy in the air. Jake just stared at me without response.
"Well I had that experience," I continued. "In Boston."
There was a long pause, during which Boo struggled to jump up into Jake's lap. Jake simply scooped the puppy into his arms and held him without once taking his eyes away from mine, his expression intense and concerned.
"I thought I loved Eric," I said. "Thought he loved me. He was the first guy I'd ever . . . been in a serious relationship with. The first guy I'd ever been willing to give up everything for."
Jake's expression didn't falter, he didn't speak, so I took a breath and continued on. "When he asked me to go to Boston to visit some friends, I was reluctant to go only because I didn't want to travel that far for no reason. I had no idea that Eric had his own reasons . . . or maybe his intentions were harmless in the beginning. I don't know. But it turned into a nightmare. A total goddamn nightmare."
Here I paused to retrieve my cigarette. Albeit a bit squashed, it was otherwise fine, so I lit it up, not caring if Jake protested, which, thankfully, he didn't. After taking a drag, I said, "These guys we stayed with, they were really into clubs and parties. We went out a few times, but I wasn't really into it. Drugs were rampant - coke and ecstasy and whatever the fuck else - I don't know. One night back at the house things turned really ugly, and Eric just turned psycho - started telling these guys to take me, do whatever the fuck they wanted . . ."
My heart accelerated at the memory, my palms turned sweaty, me breath quickened. I suddenly felt like crumbling, falling into myself. The cigarette dangled from shaky fingers.
Jake touched my knee, bringing me back to the present. "Cooper . . ." he whispered hoarsely, his voice full of emotion. "You don't have to . . ."
I brought the cigarette to my lips and sucked long and hard, filling my lungs, practically choking on the thick smoke. Then, sickened by the taste, I dumped it into the martini glass and said, "I don't even know how long I endured it. Felt like a fucking lifetime. At first, I struggled, but there were three of them and one of me, and I don't know . . . I guess the will to fight drained from me the more I realized that Eric was the one initiating it, that he was the one prompting them on, that everything he'd claimed to feel about me was nothing but a big, fat fucking lie. And then I just . . . became numb to the whole thing. Sort of like . . . traveled outside of myself, suspended above everything, no longer in my own body. It was the only way I could cope with what was happening to me."
Jake's face was completely drained of color, his lips pressed together, as though the mere suggestion of what I was telling him was too implausible to believe.
I couldn't blame him; it still remained unfathomable to me, even after all this time.
With tears dampening his eyes, Jake set Boo down on the flagstone and pulled me into an embrace, his strong hands gripping my back. "Goddamn," he muttered.
I blinked back my own tears, my emotions raw, my head aching. I felt as though I'd rather sink beneath the chair than have to face Jake's pity.
So when he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Travis," my tears fully surfaced. I brushed his arms away to stand up, tripping over his feet as I fled, my heart pounding like a fist within my chest. I crossed the lawn and stood there in the cool grass, hugging myself while tears streamed down my solemn face.
Atticus was the first to approach me, his canine wisdom sensing that I needed comforting. He laid down beside me and rested his wet nose on my foot, silent and supportive. Then Jake was there as well, carefully wrapping his arms around me from behind, whispering in my ear, "I'd never intentionally do anything to hurt you, Travis," his compassion and strength enveloping me, keeping me steady.
I nodded, but could utter nothing.
We stood this way for a few minutes, the dogs lying in the grass at our feet. Then Jake released me and turned me around to face him. I quickly rubbed the wetness from my cheeks with the palm of my hand, irritated by my emotional weakness. "I'll be all right," I assured him through shaky breath, but the sentiment sounded hollow falling from my lips. Tenuous.
Jake snaked his fingers with mine and gently pulled me back to the house. "Come on," he mumbled. "It's freaking cold out here." Despite my mood, I chuckled, which no doubt had been his intention.
We went into the kitchen, and he flipped on a light above the expansive cooktop range. Opening a cabinet, he presented a multitude of liquor bottles. "What's your pleasure?" he asked, already removing two crystal rock glasses.
I stepped closer to examine the choices. Immediately, I noticed a bottle of Tullamore Dew. "That," I said, pointing to it. "Haven't had Tull in a million years."
He obligingly poured me a glass. "Anything in it?"
I shook my head and took the glass from him, eager to taste it. I gulped half of it down and felt it burn as it traveled my esophagus. It was fucking great. Helped dispel some of the fog swirling in my mind.
Jake joined me in a glass, and although he made no verbal toast, he lifted his drink slightly to me before taking a swig. His face contorted from the strong liquor, but he swallowed it down. I had a distinct feeling that prior to meeting me, Jake had rarely ever indulged in drinking straight shots of whiskey.
I finished off my glass and set it aside. Leaning against the granite island, I said, "How many times have you stood naked in your kitchen with another man?"
He smiled slightly, his blue eyes lighting up. "This is definitely my first," he replied. "Seems I've had a lot of firsts with you."
I nodded and glanced down to the floor. Said quietly, "I hope what I told you doesn't change things too much. I know I didn't tell you everything, but just telling you anything was really tough for me."
"I know," he said.
I glanced up, my eyes peering into his. "I'll be honest, Jake," I said. "I was never going to tell you any of it."
He set his glass down and came in close, pressing his palms against my abs. "I'm glad you did," he whispered.
I sighed. Shook my head. Said, "It's weird. Some days it feels like it happened only yesterday. Other days, I'm able to put it out of my mind completely. Tonight . . . well, I wasn't so fortunate tonight."
Jake wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. "It's okay. You'll be okay. We'll get through this."
With all of my heart, I wanted to believe him. Reciprocating his embrace, I nuzzled my face in the crook of his neck and inhaled the salty scent of his skin. Felt as though I didn't want to be anywhere else but right there.
I awoke with a start, feeling momentarily disoriented, my head thick. Slowly, I opened my eyes, gathering my senses and attempting to erase the drowsiness from my mind. Atticus was fast asleep at my feet, while Boo lay curled up in Jake's pillow, breathing softly. By the angle of the sunlight streaming in through the massive window, I sensed that the hour was fairly late. Noon, perhaps.
I lay there for a moment, squinting against the brightness, wondering where Jake had disappeared to. Then I realized that the shower was running from within the master bath. Gently, I pushed Atticus from my feet and slid out from under the covers. Padded barefoot across the floor to quietly push through the bathroom door.
Jake was in the enormous enclosed shower, billows of steam rising up all around him so that I could barely make out his profile, just occasional glimpses of bare skin as he moved near the glass. After relieving my bladder, I quietly opened the door and stepped inside to join him. Immediately, a wall of hot steam rushed at me, covering me from head to toe, the warm sensation sending shivers throughout my entire body.
Jake didn't notice my arrival at first; he was turned away, standing under the shower, water cascading over his head and down his back to pool on the granite tile at his feet. I watched him briefly - his hands running over his chest, his fingers combing through his hair - then I stepped forward and touched his shoulders, immediately latching my lips onto the nape of his neck, the scent of his musky soap filling my nostrils and reaching my tongue.
He moaned at my touch, seemingly unsurprised by my presence, and rolled his head back, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. I snaked my tongue up to his ear, my hands reaching around to enfold him against my chest.
"Morning, my love," I whispered, the words falling effortlessly from my mouth.
"Morning," he replied through a drowsy, contented smile.
The clean, fresh smell of his body aroused my senses, and I hugged him closer to me, lightly tugging on his earlobe with my teeth. He moaned slightly and reached up to touch my hair, his fingers lacing through my now-wet locks. I slithered a hand down the length of his wet torso, tracing the treasure trail below his navel, continuing further to discover his rock-hard erection, his arousal matching mine completely. I cupped his balls in the palm of my hand, lightly rolling them between my fingers, feeling the density of their heavy load. It was apparent that he hadn't yet jacked-off - had probably been waiting for me to join him - and the realization of this made my cock twitch.
I clamped my mouth down onto his shoulder and began hungrily sucking his flesh, an intense yearning to devour him overtaking me. As my hand wrapped itself around his stiff cock, he moaned and reached behind to grab mine as well. I turned his face and moved my lips to his mouth, wanting to complete our union with a deep kiss. He responded in kind, snaking his tongue, searching for mine, the wetness of our mouths joined by the wetness of the shower.
We stood as one, the water rolling off our skin, hair dripping, bodies and mouths pressed firmly together, each of us stroking the other, cocks hard and pulsing. Then I turned him towards the marble wall, out of the propulsion of water, and pressed him face-up against it, positioning his hands up above his head, spreading his legs apart with my foot.
"Can't get enough of you," I uttered. My hands ran up his sides, over his shoulders, down his spine, finally landing upon his firm ass, grabbing a buttock in each hand.
He pressed his forehead against the marble and exhaled loudly. I kneaded the tight mounds for a moment, letting my fingers pull and push on the flesh until an animalistic charge circuited through me and I administered a quick, wet slap on each cheek, causing him to jump slightly and groan with pleasure.
Overcome with desire, I sank to my knees and began to lick his inner thighs, traveling up and down his legs, lapping up the beads of moisture clinging to his hair. With each stroke of my tongue, a slight moan escaped his lips, and as I slowly worked my way up, spreading his buttocks apart to lick between his crack, I heard him gasp. Felt him shudder.
Spreading him open further still, I plunged in, licking all around his tightly-puckered hole, tasting the soap, pushing the tip of my tongue through the tight ring of muscle, eventually probing him with a fingertip.
"Uuhhh . . ." he breathed, pushing back on my face with his hips, trying to receive more.
I continued to lick him, pushing my finger in a little deeper, his sphincter tightly clenching around me. I then pulled out and reached for the bottle of body wash perched on the marble bench beside us. After squirting some of the viscous liquid onto my hand, I returned to his hole, sliding two fingers straight up and in, the attempt much easier this time.
"Fuck!" he gasped, his knees almost buckling beneath him.
Without removing my fingers, I turned him to the bench, prompting him to lean down on it for support. As he did so, I scooted up under him, pressing my back against the cool marble, sliding his stiff member into my mouth. He groaned deeply. As he pushed his cock straight to the back of my throat, I continued to finger-fuck him, grazing his prostate with each thrust, causing him to shudder and moan.
My own cock was demanding attention, my arousal well beyond all conception by that point. I gripped it and immediately felt the warmth of my pre-cum dripping down onto my thumb. And as Jake's dick slid in and out of my mouth, I began to stroke myself, hoping to reach climax in time with him.
Jake picked up his rhythm, fucking my mouth, eventually entangling his fingers in my hair while his other hand moved up to press firmly against the wall for better support. After a moment, he perched a foot up onto the bench as well, spreading his legs wider, whispering breathlessly, "One more, Cooper . . . Push one more finger in . . ."
I couldn't be certain that he knew what he was asking - couldn't imagine that he would want that much in him - but when he snapped, "Just fuckin' do it!" I acquiesced, pushing in another finger, burying all three digits deep within him until his rectum was stretched wide open, his legs quivering, a loud, low growl escaping his lips.
I began to feverishly stroke my throbbing cock, my balls now riding up, aching for quick release, Jake's scrotum mimicking mine. He thrust in my mouth several more times, then loudly bellowed, "Fucking . . . cumming . . ." and ceased all movement, his orgasm seeming to paralyze him as wave upon wave of hot cum shot down my throat. I struggled to swallow all of it, felt myself gagging a bit, and pulled him out, receiving the last few spurts of semen on my chin while my own cock erupted, sending ropes of thick cum cascading down my fist to pool on the wet tile below, eventually washing down into the drain.
Jake's head hung limply for a moment, his mouth open, his breath heavy as he attempted to come down from his euphoria. I tried to shake the clouds from my mind as well. As I slid my fingers from his hole, he gasped, tensed up, and then sat down on the bench, leaning his head back against the marble, eyes only half-open as he peered down at me.
"Goddamn . . ." he muttered. "You know just what to fuckin' do to get me going . . ."
I crawled up to embrace him. "You as well," I said.
We sat on the bench together with the shower still running, the steam so thick now it was almost difficult to breathe. But somehow, the ambience fit the mood. Neither of us made an attempt to leave for quite some time. Not until we had washed each other and aroused each other once more, taking turns to lick and suck and pull, both reaching orgasm again, the desire and love we felt for one another more powerful than mere words could express.
The day was incredibly warm and sunny as we departed from the house. In contrast to Jake's attire of cargo shorts and flip-flops, and despite the temperate weather, I was dressed in faded blue jeans and t-shirt, my worn cowboy boots on my feet, my Resistol on my head. It was pure habit dressing this way - the way I dressed everyday at home, the way I'd been dressing my whole life. It wasn't until we reached the restaurant that I realized that the hat was unnecessary and so removed it and tossed it into the backseat.
Jake frowned at this. "I like you that way."
I grinned and pushed my door open. "I'll wear it for you later."
I stepped out onto the sidewalk and was immediately met by a throng of pedestrians weaving past me, cell phones pressed to their ears, shopping bags in their hands, small dogs on leashes trotting along beside them. Jake came forward and thankfully led the way to the restaurant, an organic coffee shop of some sort. Without even entering the establishment, he chose a table on the outside patio and took a seat. I followed suit, and we sat browsing the paper menu for a moment.
For a coffee shop, everything appeared gourmet. I read the selections twice, trying to come to a decision, and then Jake said, "I recommend the honey vanilla latte."
I glanced at him. "Okay."
"And their sandwiches are really good."
"Okay."
After ordering, we sat back and watched the people walk by. The sun was warm and soothing, and I basked in it for awhile, turning my face upwards and shutting my eyes against the blinding light. I listened to the sounds of the city - people talking, dogs yipping, cars driving by, an occasional horn honking, airplanes flying by overhead. It was pure hustle and bustle. Invigorating.
"Oh wow . . . Jake Gyll . . . Jack Twist," a female voice spoke.
I opened my eyes and noticed two young girls approach the table. They were dressed just like Katy would be, with mini-skirts up to their belly-buttons and tight spaghetti-strap tops hugging pubescent breasts. Far too much makeup, perfectly-manicured fingernails, sparkling jewelry that was probably worth more than Jake's Mercedes. I even noticed a small chihuahua mix poking its head out of an over-sized purse slung over one of the girl's shoulders.
"Hi," Jake said in response to them, that irresistible grin spreading across his handsome face.
They engaged in conversation for a moment, and I sat listening, noticing that the girls were completely entranced by him. Oblivious to me. Then cell phones were taken out and I was being asked to take pictures. Obliging them, I did the best I could to work the contraptions, uncertain as to the success of the photos but pretending that everything was fine.
When they had gone, I sat forward and whispered to Jake, "Everybody wants a piece of you."
He grinned crookedly. Nudged my boot under the table. Whispered, "But only you get it."
Our food and lattes appeared, and we quickly dove in without comment, both of us famished more than we'd realized.
"This is really good," I stated, sipping the deliciously sweet honey vanilla latte - unlike any coffee I'd ever tasted. The pesto chicken sandwich was equally delectable, and I hungrily munched on it, feeling as though I couldn't eat fast enough, feeling as though I hadn't eaten in days.
The small throng of photographers gathered across the street didn't catch my attention at first. It wasn't until I sat back to pause from devouring my food that I finally noticed them; the scene startled me once again, the long lenses of their cameras intrusive, invasive. I remembered the tabloid photos of the ranch and cringed at the thought that future photos of Jake and me might appear in the magazines, with inevitable questions ensuing. Although it killed me to have to hide things, if Jake wasn't yet ready to come out, I certainly didn't want to be the instigator of rumors. The best way to handle the situation, it seemed, was to act as though it was no big deal, as though Jake and I were just a couple of buddies having lunch together on a sunny L.A. afternoon. I concentrated on exuding this while we continued our meal.
Jake, as unruffled as always in the limelight, glanced at his watch and commented, "We've got to get Maggie soon."
I nodded. Finished off my sandwich and bit into the accompanying dill pickle.
From inside the restaurant, a petite blonde girl appeared, dressed in a cream-colored jogging suit, a pair of dark sunglasses covering a high-cheek-boned, attractive face. She approached Jake as though she knew him, and in an instant I watched Jake's expression change from one of nonchalance to one of pure discomfort.
"Kirsten . . ." he said, his voice slightly faltering. He sat forward, rubbing his knees with the palms of his hands, looking up at this girl who somehow, mysteriously, made him squirm like I'd rarely seen anyone squirm before.
She smiled warmly at him. Pushed the sunglasses to the top of her head and bent down to hug him. Kissed him on the cheek before standing up straight again. "How are you, sweetie?" she crooned.
Jake's grin was nervous and forced. His eyes swept over me briefly, and I knew without anything ever needing to be explained that this girl was something more than just a mere acquaintance to him.
"I'm good," he replied, mustering enthusiasm. "You?"
"Exhausted," she said, rolling her eyes. "`Antoinette' has been challenging. We're in the final stages of post-production now, thank goodness. Should be wrapping up fairly soon." Her eyes met mine. Friendly and warm and inquisitive. "Hi," she said. Her hand reached out for mine. "I'm Kirsten."
I shook it firmly and returned the smile. "Travis."
"The Colorado rancher," she stated. Her gaze lingered on me for a moment. I sensed no malice from her, no judgment or confusion - only a quiet, calm understanding, as if she knew everything that was going on, no explanation necessary.
I felt an immediate connection with her. Whoever she was.
Jake stood up, digging in his pocket for money and tossing it to the table. "I hate to run," he stated, "but we've got to get Maggie at the airport."
"Oh," Kirsten said softly. "I miss my Maggie. Is Peter coming, too?"
"He has to stay in New York." Jake was uncomfortable. Ready for a quick departure. I stood up, indicating that I was right behind him, wanting to express my support despite the fact that I didn't yet understand his discomfort.
Kirsten pulled me into a tight hug, standing up on her toes to whisper in my ear, "Glad to meet you, Travis."
"Me, too," I said.
Then she turned to embrace Jake. He reciprocated, and I could sense just from their body language that they were quite familiar with one another. Had obviously been lovers at one point in time. Perhaps not very long ago, either, for that matter.
Kirsten stepped back and smiled at me, dimples creasing her cherubic face, her blue-green eyes alight. "It was really great meeting you, Travis," she said, repeating the sentiment she'd articulated only a few moments before. Interesting that she'd felt the need to say it again.
Silenced enveloped us. Kirsten glanced from Jake to me. Then, brushing a wisp of blonde hair from her forehead, she said, "So I'll see you both tomorrow night?"
Jake shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts, a look of consternation flashing across his face. "You're, uh . . .?"
She nodded. "Yes. They sent me an invitation." Then, lowering her voice a notch, she asked timidly, "That's all right with you, isn't it?"
Jake nodded. "Of course. Dad and Mom'll love to see you."
"Okay, great." Her smile was sincere and genuine. It dawned on me, then, that she sensed the relationship between Jake and me - and approved of it. A fact that was interesting indeed.
Jake dropped his sunglasses down to cover his eyes, a sign that he was ready to leave. But Kirsten kept him for just a moment longer, inquiring, "How's my little Atticus?"
By that question, there was no longer any doubt in my mind that they had been in a relationship together. Had probably lived together - perhaps in the very house I was now staying in. A mystery had developed itself, leaving unanswered questions in my mind, intriguing me.
"He's good," Jake replied. "Come see him."
She nodded. "Okay, I will. Thanks."
With that, Jake maneuvered around the table, muttering, "Bye," before descending the stairs to the sidewalk. I lifted a hand in farewell before following him, my attention diverted once again to the photographers gathered across the street. I would never get used to it, would never be able to pretend they didn't exist. Didn't know how Jake managed to keep his sanity.
Jake answered a call on his cell phone while sliding into the driver's seat. We headed back out onto the road, and I had to content myself with listening to his side of the conversation, revolving around scheduling an appointment to read a script.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll be sure to include that . . . No, don't worry about that, Mel. Seriously. Kevin knows what's going on . . . Okay, yeah I'll talk to you then. Bye."
We stopped at a busy intersection, and Jake snapped his phone shut. Sighed deeply and sat tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, exuding anxiety or irritation or frustration, or a combination of all three. I slid a hand onto his thigh and felt the tension in him. "Relax, babe," I whispered.
He glanced at me. I could barely discern the look in his eyes through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.
"It's all right," I stated, not waiting for him to speak. "About Kirsten I mean. I don't know why you were so nervous by her presence. She seems really nice."
The light turned green and Jake used the acceleration of the car to avoid my comment.
I surprised him by bluntly asking, "How long were you two together?"
He looked at me, mouth slightly open. After a long pause, he eventually responded, "Quite a while. Off and on for a couple years."
"Lived together?"
He nodded.
"Wow."
His eyes returned to the road, hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. After a moment he said, "Things were never quite right between us."
"Hmmm . . . She had her doubts about your . . . " I searched for the right word. "Inclinations?"
He didn't respond right away. I could tell that his thoughts had traveled elsewhere, perhaps back in time.
"Yeah . . ." he finally said. "I suppose so. But she doesn't know."
"Sure she does," I stated.
He glanced at me. "What?"
"She knows, Jake."
"No she doesn't."
"Yes, she does. Trust me. It was quite apparent."
We came to a stop at another intersection, and Jake ran a hand over his mouth, staring off through the windshield. "Shit . . ." he mumbled. "Fuck . . ." Then, looking at me, added, "You really think so?"
As the light turned green, I squeezed his knee and said, "Don't be so afraid of it, Jake. People are more understanding than you give them credit for."
He nodded, biting his lower lip, lost in thought. "Yeah, maybe," he spoke after a moment, voice solemn. "But they can be pretty ruthless, too."
"Stay optimistic," I urged. "Life's too short. Remember?"
He glanced at me once more, a genuine attempt at a grin finally creeping in. "All right, cowboy," he said after a moment. "I will if you will."
The truthfulness of his words struck me; I'd been too damn heavy and emotional since I'd arrived. I needed to loosen up. Have a good time. Seize the opportunity to love and be loved by this man as much as possible before returning home at the end of the week.
"All right," I agreed. "It's a deal."
I leaned over to peck him on the cheek. But no sooner had my lips grazed his stubble, than he turned his face and pressed his mouth to mine. It was a short kiss but full of sentiment, and my heart swelled. As he returned his attention back to the road, I sat studying his profile for a minute, admiring his chiseled features, his strong jaw line, the playful curve of his lips. The way his arm flexed as he turned the steering wheel. Everything about him was perfect and beautiful. Flawless.
It seemed nothing short of a miracle that I was sitting in that car with him, that the taste of his kiss still lingered on my lips. It had been a tremendous fate that had brought us together that cold evening in Aspen, when I had glanced across the restaurant and noticed him sitting in that booth, looking lost and lonely and in need of something. I'd never felt such an instant, irresistible attraction to someone . . .
"It's strange," I suddenly said, unaware that I was speaking the words aloud.
Jake waited for me to continue, but when I didn't, he prompted, "What's strange?"
I spread my arms out. "This . . . You. Me. Us. Together. It's fucking nuts. How in the world did it ever happen?"
Jake smiled. "Don't know. I ask myself that, too, sometimes, but really it can't be explained. It just is. I'm not complaining."
"Me neither."
We drove on, nearing the airport, and I reflected on last night, when I'd come close to demanding Jake bring me back there, my frustrations of the evening erupting profusely. Now, I couldn't imagine leaving. Couldn't imagine returning home at the end of the week. Refused to even linger on the sadness of that reality.
"Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?" I asked, squeezing his bare knee.
His hand covered mine. Our fingers entwined.
"Yes," he replied. ". . . but you can always tell me again . . ."
"Okay. You're wonderful."
He grinned. "You're pretty spectacular yourself, cowboy . . ."
Maggie sat cross-legged beside me on the suede sectional, sipping from a steaming cup of green tea, her feet bare, her belly plump in a lavender and green floral maternity shirt. She looked radiant, her features soft, cheeks slightly flush, eyes alight, a sense of calm and serenity enveloping her. The moment she had stepped into the terminal at the airport, her beauty had struck me. It was not only a physical beauty - which she certainly possessed, with her shimmering brown hair and striking blue eyes, attractive in every way, just like her brother - she encompassed a deep, inner beauty as well, an aura of quiet femininity which continually emanated from her.
"Pregnancy is treating you well," I commented, sipping on my own cup of tea.
She smiled sweetly. "That's very kind of you to say to a Good Year blimp."
I laughed. Jake peered into the room from his domain in the kitchen, spatula in hand, and said, "Am I missing something funny?"
Maggie and I both responded in unison, "No."
He retreated, continuing to prepare dinner, the smell of garlic and oregano wafting throughout the house. My stomach couldn't contain its growling, my hunger almost unbearable; we hadn't eaten anything since the sandwich at the cafe several hours ago.
As if sensing this, Jake suddenly appeared to present us with a platter of French bread and a thick, warm dip, setting the ensemble down on the shaker coffee table, along with napkins and dessert plates.
"Mmmm," Maggie said, eagerly sitting forward. "Your artichoke and asiago cheese dip . . ."
"Yep," he replied, his hands on his hips, a proud smile on his face. I knew that he took his culinary talents seriously. My stomach was thankful for it. "Dinner should be ready soon," he stated. "Anyone need more tea? Or I could break open the cabernet?"
Maggie and I simultaneously shook our heads. Jake chuckled. Mumbled something about two peas in a pod, then surprisingly bent down to kiss the top of my head. "I'll be back," he said, returning to the kitchen once more.
After he had gone, Maggie looked at me and said, "He's crazy about you, you know. Talked about you non-stop the entire time you two were separated."
I couldn't contain the smile spreading on my face. "Yeah, well . . . I'm crazy about him, too."
She handed me a heaping plate of bread and dip, then prepared one for herself. Once sitting back, she said quietly, "I don't know much about the relationships between two men . . . I can't imagine its much different from hetero ones . . . but Jake is very special to a lot of people. No one would want to see him get hurt. Especially in the circumstance, and the industry, that he's in."
"I have no intention of hurting him," I assured her.
She peered at me for a moment, her blue eyes searching mine, her expression contemplative. Then she said, "I believe that's true. I don't think you would purposely hurt him in any way. But there are others out there that would seize the chance to defame him. Use this relationship against him. He has a promising career, Travis. Acting is his life, his focus - it's what he does, it's who he is."
I nodded. "I know."
"My only request," Maggie continued, "is that you don't rush him to reveal his homosexuality to everyone just yet. I think you would agree that it wouldn't be in his best interest."
I slid a slice of the crusty bread into the dip and took a bite, the flavor instantly igniting my taste buds. After swallowing, I said, "I want what Jake wants. If he wants discreetness, then that's what I'll give him."
"You're okay with that?" she prodded, her eyes flashing a hint of doubt.
I wiped my mouth with a napkin and set the plate down. "I wouldn't have thought so yesterday, but today . . . well, I saw a bunch of photographers taking our picture when we were having lunch, and it really hit me just how serious all of this is. Too many people suffer prejudice and hatred because of their choice of lifestyle, and I'm not going to let that happen to Jake. When and if he's comfortable to come out, then I'll be there with him, supporting him the whole way. Until then . . ." I shrugged. Tossed the napkin aside. "We'll make the best of things the way they are."
Maggie appeared a bit staggered. After a brief pause, she said, "You're serious, aren't you?"
I nodded. "Of course. I have no reason to lie."
She sighed. "An interesting development. You, a cattle rancher, as far removed from Hollywood as any one person could be, hooking up with my brother." She sat forward. Lowered her voice, as if hoping he wouldn't hear her from within the kitchen. "Jake's been in several relationships, Travis. Never with a man, mind you, that I'm aware of anyway, although this relationship with you doesn't altogether surprise me - call it sibling instinct, I don't know - but I don't think I could hope for anyone more grounded, sensitive or intelligent for him to be with than you."
I turned my gaze away, feeling a bit emotional by her words. "He means a great deal to me," I whispered.
Maggie smiled and touched my knee. Brought my attention back to her. "He's an easy one to love," she said.
"Yes," I agreed. "He certainly is."
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