Family Man (17 page)

He wanted to see me.

I was such a fool. I was so crazy about him that his confession made me feel like I could fly. I bit my lip, smiling and hoping he couldn’t somehow tell. I closed my eyes and let the simple joy of that statement fill me up for just a minute.

When I opened them again, reality set in—reality in the form of a mostly blank piece of paper in front of me, an open textbook and my notes a fucking mess around me. If only I could afford a computer, then I wouldn’t have to get up so early to go type it up. Of course, that still wouldn’t solve the issue of having to write the thing. Going out tonight was a bad idea any way I looked at it.

“Please,” Vinnie said, and for better or worse, this time, he really did sound sincere. “Let me see you tonight.”

A lifetime of being responsible, of never missing a due date, of always being on time, and it boiled down to this: Hadn’t I earned the right to cut myself some slack? Would it be so bad, just this once, to be one of the schmucks who turned in their paper a day late?

The age-old dilemma of responsibility versus desire warred inside my head, and it took very little for me to choose the victor.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

I found him sitting at the bar, and he’d somehow managed to secure the stool next to him for me. I sat down, looking over into his dark eyes. Under cover of the bar, his hand found mine, and he squeezed my fingers. “Thanks for coming.”

Something was wrong, I realized, and it wasn’t anything to do with me. Something had upset him. I wanted to find out what it was, but I had no idea how to ask. Nobody had to tell me the direct approach would get me nowhere.

What if he was going to break up with me? What if he couldn’t bear to do it over the phone, so he’d called me here? What if he was just working up the courage?

What if I’d fallen in love with him like Josh had said, and he was about to let me go?

“Can I buy you a drink?” He squeezed my hand again. “You want a Sprite, or water?”

I debated my options. I rarely drank, but not for the reasons most people assumed. It wasn’t because I hated alcohol. It wasn’t that I felt I could get back at it for what it had done to my mom by pretending it didn’t exist. After all, despite what my mom claimed, alcohol hadn’t done anything to her. She’d done all the damage on her own. The thing was, alcohol simply wasn’t convenient. It cost money, and more importantly, it cost time. Between two jobs and school, I didn’t have the luxury of dealing with hangovers.

But tonight? Well, I’d already decided to throw responsibility to the wind.

“How about a screwdriver?”

Vince’s eyes widened a little, but he said nothing, only flagged down the bartender and ordered my drink.

Two hours later, I’d finished two screwdrivers, and I could feel them starting to work. I was slowly nursing my way through a third. Vinnie, on the other hand, had finished several drinks, and if he was going to break up with me, he had a damn funny way of going about it. The normally uptight, I’m Not Gay man I’d come to know was turning into somebody else entirely. He kept touching me and leaning too close. He even kissed me, first my jaw and then my ear, and then a slow, lingering kiss on my lips that made me want to melt.

This new Vinnie didn’t seem to care that we were in a bar in a neighborhood where he might be recognized. He put one arm around my shoulder and pulled me halfway off my stool.

“I really have missed you,” he whispered in my ear. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

I’d missed him too, more than I could say, but I was still hurt enough not to want to admit it. “I was beginning to think we were over.”

“I was being stupid, I know. Tell me I’m forgiven.”

Not exactly an apology, but it made my heart swell just the same. “You might be.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.” He nipped at my ear, raising goose bumps down my spine. “Come home with me.”

“That’s a bad idea.” But the truth was, the thought made my heart race.

“Please.” His warm breath tickled my neck. His other hand was sliding slowly up my leg. “God, I want to be able to touch you.”

“Vin—”

“I know the rule. No sex. I know.” He cupped my groin in his hand, and my eyes drifted shut. I bit my cheek to stifle the whimper threatening to escape my lips. “I’m not asking you to break the rules,” he whispered. “But I’d sure love to explore that line between yes and no.”

It was such a bad, bad idea. It could only lead to trouble. It could only lead to regrets.

“Please,” he said again.

I finished my drink before we left, even though my head was already spinning. It was cold outside. The mist in the air was trying to coalesce into rain. Soon, it would succeed. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and followed him down the street to the station.

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.

The words were like a mantra in my head, echoing with every step.

Bad idea.

We waited for the train. Not speaking. Not touching. Not daring to look at each other.

I should say no. I should turn around and go home.

There was still time, until the train pulled up and the doors swished open and I was following him inside.

Bad idea.

Onto the train, which was almost deserted. Sitting side by side, his hand on my knee.

Bad idea. Really bad idea.

Five stops. People got on. People got off. My mouth was dry. My heart was pounding.

Bad idea.

Thoughts were flying through my head at such a frantic pace, I began to feel sick.

For so long, I’d been hanging on to my virginity as if it was some kind of prize to be given away. It wasn’t because I thought sex was a sin. It wasn’t that I thought we had to be married. It was simply that I wanted it to matter. I wanted it to be with somebody who I thought was worth the risk of opening myself up.

Right now, though, I wanted it to be Vinnie.

Whether or not he loved me the way I did him wasn’t the point. It didn’t matter that it might not last. It only mattered that right now, I cared about him, and if I slept with him, it would mean something to us both.

Still, I didn’t know if I was ready. So what was I doing on the train with him?

Bad idea.

Lights seemed to fly past the window, and Vinnie’s hand moved farther up my thigh.

I’ll get off at the next stop,
I thought.
I’ll just hop on the train going the other way. I’ll say good night. I’ll tell him about my paper, and about having to be up early. I’ll tell him this is a bad idea.

Then suddenly we were alone on the train. He pulled me close. He kissed my neck. His hand moved slowly to my groin. His lips were warm and his breath tickled my ear. My pants felt way too tight over my erection, and still the words were in my head.

Bad, bad fucking idea.

I missed the next station and any that might have come after. I was lost in the warm glow of my buzz and the frantic thoughts inside my mind. His kisses and the gentle insistence of his touch were the only things anchoring me to the world. The train stopped, and then he was leading me off, holding my hand, guiding me through the damp, cold night down a street I didn’t recognize, up stairs I didn’t know. He let go of me to unlock the door.

Oh God, this is such a bad idea.

And then we were inside. He grabbed me. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, and God, it felt good. He was so solid and strong. And so
sure
. For once, there was no hesitation. He led me through the room, down a hallway, kissing me the whole way. He smelled amazing, like he always did, and the sour taste of beer mixed with the heat of his mouth seemed like perfection. Somehow my shirt was off, and so was his, and his skin against mine was smooth and warm and intoxicating.

He pushed me down onto the bed, and somewhere, way in the back of my mind, an alarm went off. An echo of my mantra—
bad idea
—but it was only for a moment. The room was dark. He was heavy on top of me, his groin grinding into me. My hands were still cold from being outside, and the skin of his back felt feverish. The furnace hummed. The first drops of rain pattered on the window. The only other sound was us—our frantic breathing and desperate moans.

With the warmth of the vodka in my veins, the weight of him on top of me, the gentle racket of the rain hitting the window, it was so easy to let go. It was so easy to hush that voice and the alarm in my head. His hands were everywhere, his kisses becoming more urgent.

“God, Trey, I’ve missed you so much. You’re all I’ve thought about for days.”

He rolled us over so I was on top. He wrapped his legs around my hips. That alarm again, in the back of my mind, and I hushed it. I didn’t want to heed it. I just wanted to touch him and to finally let our desire for each other reach its logical conclusion.

Vinnie kissed behind my ear. “Spend the night with me.”

“Shhh,” I told him, turning my head to claim his lips. I didn’t want him to talk. I didn’t want him to wake the voice of reason that always ruled my head. For once, I wanted to be impulsive and irrational and reckless. For once, I wanted to let myself give in.

His legs tightened around me. “You turn me on so much.”

The alarm continued, and I hated it. I ignored it. I ran my hand down his stomach to his pants, which had somehow come unbuttoned. Had I done that? I slid my hand inside, rubbing him through the fabric of his briefs, and he moaned.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Lower.”

I obliged him, moving my hand down to cup his scrotum. He bucked against me, and I strained to fight back my own arousal. Did he have condoms? I knew I should ask, but I couldn’t come up with the bravery needed to say the words. If I spoke, the spell would be broken. Reason would rear its ugly head.

“Lower,” he whispered. He arched toward me, lifting his hips, so my hand slid down between his legs.

The way he responded to my touch amazed me. He pulled me down and kissed me hungrily, grinding his ass toward my exploring fingers. Even through the thin fabric of his briefs, I knew when I’d found his entrance. The timbre of his moan changed. My hand was between my groin and his ass, and I shoved my hips forward, letting my motion and my questing fingers simulate the feeling of thrusting into him.

“Is this what you want?” I asked.

He opened his eyes, although in the dark I couldn’t read what was in them. “Yes.” He strained back against my fingers. “I want you in me. I want all of you in me.”

His answer shocked me. It scared me. It also turned me on beyond belief. It had never occurred to me that he’d want to bottom. I’d always assumed he’d want to top, and my own fear of being penetrated for the first time had worked in my favor, helping to temper whatever arousal I might feel. But now, here he was, pushing down onto my hand, letting my fingers slide deeper, moaning as he did.

“Please, Trey,” he whispered. “God, I want you.”

The alarm was sounding again in my brain, and I wanted to ignore it. I didn’t want to hear it at all, let alone heed it. I wanted to rush forward, to let this be the night when I learned what it felt like to be with another man. But there was something so wrong about what was happening.

“I don’t think we should.” I only said it because I thought I should. Not because I meant it.

“Please, Trey.” His hands began to fumble at the buttons on my jeans. “I want you to fuck me. God, I want you to fuck me so much.”

His words and the unapologetic desperation of his tone made the alarm blare.

I want you to fuck me.
The words seemed to resound in my head. And they were all wrong.

This was Vinnie, the man who couldn’t say he was gay. He couldn’t tell me he missed me. He could barely even tell me he wanted to see me without me coaxing him through it. And now, here he was, his legs wrapped around my hips, his ass grinding against my hand, my fingers and the fabric of his briefs inside him up to my first knuckle, and he was begging me to fuck him.

The glow of arousal began to fade. I removed my hands out of his pants. I backed away a bit, trying to catch my breath.

“Trey, please,” he said again. “God,
please
.”

I pushed his hands away from the buttons on my pants, and I made myself think. I made myself notice the slur of his words, the clumsiness of his hands. I thought about how much he’d had to drink. And at last, responsibility won out, as it always seemed to do for me.

Vinnie may have wanted me to fuck him, but I knew that had he been sober, he would never have been able to admit it, let alone beg for it. Chances were he couldn’t even admit it to himself in the cool, clear light of day. I was pretty sure if I gave him what he was asking for, he’d hate me for it in the end. He’d wake up in the morning and not be able to look me in the eye. Whatever we had between us would be over before it started, and I’d have exchanged my years of waiting for nothing but regrets. Yes, Vincent Fierro was probably going to be the guy I lost my virginity to, but it wasn’t going to be tonight.

I took a deep breath, and although it felt like killing some tiny piece of me, I said, “Remember our rules, Vin. No sex.”