Home is a Fire (10 page)

“Luke Walcott.” Beat. “It’s Luke Walcott,” I said and stared at her, waiting for a reaction.

She looked at me with unblinking eyes for what seemed like 5 minutes, but in all honesty it was probably around fifteen seconds.

Finally, she spoke. “
Holy. Shit
.” She grabbed her drink and took an enormous gulp.

“Now that’s the reaction I wanted!” I said, satisfied.

“Luke Walcott?!” she stammered. “But, baby, isn’t he? I mean,
wasn’t
he? Or is he
now?
I mean, I know you were crushing on him
hard
when you first came back, but that was over and done with in a heartbeat, right? You said he was straight. We established that. Didn’t we? Jeez. So confused. Your team is just recruiting all the hotties.”

“I know, right?” I gushed. “He’s everything. Athletic, smart, funny, hot as hell. And that smile and those dimples. I feel like it can’t be true. But it is. We kissed. Today. I kissed him, and not only did he
not
freak out, he invited me over for dinner this week.”

“
Holy. Shit
. This just gets better.” She took another large sip of her martini and looked at me wide eyed. “I’m shocked. But, honestly? Not that shocked. Look at you.
Look. At. You!
Who could resist?”

“Oh, stop!” I could feel my cheeks reddening. “Kit, I’m terrified. I can’t fuck this up. He’s a newbie. I don’t think he’s done anything with anyone. Any guy. You know what I mean. But you know how I get. Look at my past. I’m crazy. I start to plan the wedding on the first date, and on the second date I’ve named the kids. By the third date I’m trying to figure out where we should retire. I’m insane. You have to help me!”

“You have got to go slow, Derek,” she cautioned. “You cannot freak this one out. Luke is a total keeper. Hell, half the town will want to
be
you and half the town will want to
kill
you. He’s the real deal, the maximum prize. Oh, shit. I know so many girls who are gonna wanna go all Rambo on you!” She playfully high fived me and then started laughing, uncontrollably. “
Best. News. Ever!
”

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell Bammy, so I kind of cheated by telling you. Please, please don’t tell anyone. But you have to help me with this. If I freak out, I just need someone to calm me down, okay?”

“Well, like I said, in a way I kind of knew already. At least, I hoped it would work out for you. But I’m here for you, baby. You know it. Oh my gosh, I’m so proud of you!” She was really smiling now. I felt so much better having opened up to her. “You already cracked the shell, but we need to make sure he thinks you are every bit as wonderful as we all know you are.”

“How do we do that,” I asked, “when I either project this strange animosity towards him or practically go weak in the knees every time I see him? There’s way too much intense love/hate right now.”

“Confidence, baby.” She stared straight at me. “
Confidence. Is. Sexy
. You have to show Luke that you’re the kind of guy that HE wants. Now let’s get started on a plan. But first, Charlotte?!” She held her hand up and called for the waitress, again. “Honey, we’re gonna need a new round of drinks. Derek and I have some work to do. Oh! And can we get two of those mini pizzas? The one with the capers and lamb sausage? Thanks, girl!”

Let the Love Games begin.

14

Kit and I spent the better part of the night at Chesty Cheese planning every moment of my upcoming dinner with Luke. In between martinis, pizzas and a few flying pasties we decided what clothes I would wear, topics of conversation, compliments I should give and subjects I should avoid. We even scheduled and pre-wrote an “emergency text” from her that I could answer or ignore, depending on how the night went.

Monday’s hangover was vicious, but worth every minute. I’m telling you, when you want to plan an invasion in style, you want Kit Lange on your side. Before the war has even begun she’ll have your enemy cozying up to you trying to figure out a way to become besties.

I was straightening up my desk at the end of the workday when one of my students knocked on the door and wheeled in a large rolling rack of clothes. “Mr. Walter? You have a delivery
from the home ec class? Costumes for the musical?” Why do kids nowadays end every sentence in a question mark?

“
Ooh
, yes. Put it in there,” and I pointed to the wardrobe closet in the corner. “Thanks so much.”

I had been drinking water all day, but my head was ignoring the relief and was still pounding. All I wanted was a good run after work, but I knew I would collapse in agony after just a few minutes, so I pulled out my phone to put together a new playlist for another less headache-y day.

“Hey, handsome. Whatcha doin’?”

I looked up to see Luke smiling at me from the door, standing there in his jeans and tight grey t-shirt. Just the man I always wanted, in the flesh.

“Not much,” I smiled, playing it cool. “Just putting together a Madonna playlist for my next run. And that’s not even the gayest thing I’ve said today, by the way. That was ‘
Ooh
, yes. Put it in there.’ ”

Crap. Kit warned me not to go “too gay,” and here I am, cracking Madonna and sex jokes.

Thankfully, he just laughed a bit and looked at me with a resigned look. “Derek, you don’t have to try so hard. I know you’re a funny guy. I like that. That’s part of the reason why I like you so much.” He smiled. “So I was thinking about that date. See you Wednesday, 8 o’clock? I’ll text you my address. Don’t be late.”

And with that, he turned and left, leaving me with my jaw slightly dropped, my eyes wide open, and my headache a thing of the past.

Luke “likes” me.

And I didn’t even have to pass him a note to ask.

■ ■ ■

“Break a leg, Dolly.”

Uncle Barry was in his lounge chair as I came down the stairs. I’d been in and out of the bathroom and bedroom countless times, adjusting, readjusting, and basically sweating the good scent off so much that I had to reapply it.

“That obvious?” I said.

“What’s his name?” he asked, from his usual spot in the long chair.

“I can’t divulge that information, Uncle Barry. You of all people should appreciate how much we value secrets in this town.” I winked at him.

“
Touché
, nephew,” he said, eyebrow arching as he placed his glass of wine down on the side table.

Luke grew up a bit further out west, where the barns and pastures gave way to golf courses and rambling McMansions. His parents, Red and Posy Walcott, were well known in the community, but I had actually forgotten that his mother had passed away, if I even knew that at all. Even so, his childhood experience was definitely more “have” than “have not.” After attending our local state university on a football scholarship, which he didn’t actually need, Luke stayed in town and became a coach and teacher, leaving his dreams of playing pro football behind. He was good on the gridiron, but not great enough. Those who can’t do, teach, right? He now lived towards the university in an older part of town known for it’s refurbished Victorian houses.
I loved it there, as most of the architectural gems of the college campus had been razed for parking garages years ago. I appreciated that he had an eye for something with character. And I had plenty of that.

I parked on the street in front and walked towards his front door with a bottle of wine in my hand, the dual glow of the moon and a streetlamp lighting my path. I stood at the door nervously for a second, gathered my thoughts and took a deep breath. Here we go, Derek. As RuPaul says, “Don’t fuck it up.”

I rang the doorbell, and waited. And waited. And waited. Thirty seconds passed and it felt like an eternity. I didn’t hear any foots steps, no one calling out to “come on in.” So I pressed it again, and again there was nothing. No Luke, no welcome, no hug. And my mind started reeling.

Oh, my god. This is a set up. This is a joke. What if this is a joke? What if this is an elaborate, years-in-the-making joke? Oh, my god, I need to get out of here. I need to run. I can’t believe I fell for this. I can’t, I just can’t. I couldn’t breathe.

I stepped backwards off the porch and started walking back towards my car… and stopped. Hold up, Derek. You’re acting like a crazy man and you haven’t even walked in the door yet. Get your head in the game and get back there. Are you a greyhound? Do you want the prize, or not? Of course you do. Stupid question. Back straight. Eyes forward. Now, GO.

I turned, stepped back up, and tried the door handle. It opened. “Hello? Luke, it’s me,” I called out.

“Hey, come on in!” he said, from inside the house. He walked towards the door, extended his hand and pulled me in,
closing the door quickly after me. Kitchen towel over his shoulder, he looked every bit the chef in charge.

“Um, sorry, I rang the bell but there wasn’t an answer.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. The bell’s broken,” he explained. “I guess I should really fix that. But you’re here now. Good.” He smiled and placed his arm around me, with his hand at the small of my back. “Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Of course there was a good explanation! Broken doorbell. My god, I almost left! I almost didn’t come in. Remember what Kit said, Derek. Confidence is sexy. Be confident, be yourself, but keep that drama to a minimum.

I followed him into the kitchen. He had set the table for two, and there was a large pot on the stove that smelled fantastic. He had a cutting board out ready to chop some vegetables.

“I hope you like chicken,” he said. “We used to have Mexican food a lot when I was a kid. My parents weren’t around all that much. Rosa did all the cooking and cleaning. She took care of my little sister, Lana and me. She practically raised us, more than either of my parents, actually. My mother had always been too busy with her shopping and my father was always at his club. And after Mother was gone, my father disappeared in his own way. Anyway, this isn’t a therapy session.” He stopped, embarrassed. “Sorry about that. I’m kinda nervous, actually. Am I babbling?”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I’m happy to hear your stories. I just want to get to know you better, you know?”

“Yeah, me too,” he smiled. “Anyway, Rosa made amazing meals for us, and I guess I paid more attention than I realized. I’m pretty good at this stuff. Hand me that avocado?”

I jumped up and sat on the counter beside him. “Mind if I sit? I like it up here. I always sat on the counter as a kid when my mom was cooking,” I said.

“Is your mom a good cook? What’s she make?” he asked.

“A little of everything. You and I can have a cook-off some day, to compare,” I said.

“You’re on.” He winked at me. I melted. “Grab those plates from the table, will ya? I hope you’re hungry.”

We put together our plates of soft shell tacos, fresh salsa and avocado and walked over to the table. He had set it so that I was at the end and he was on the side, to my right, rather than across from me. We put our plates down and started eating, and he wasn’t lying, he had apparently learned a lot from Rosa. The food was fantastic. We refilled our glasses of wine a few times and talked a bit more about growing up in our small town, and compared his choice of staying and becoming a football coach to my choice of leaving.

“So, what do you do in your spare time,” he said, “besides drinking at the Firelight and running around the lake?”

“My life isn’t all drag shows and shopping, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I said, sarcastically. “I hang with my friends, I read, I write, I watch the games.”

“You watch sports?” he said.

“Luke, I grew up in the same town as you did, remember?” I said. “If we didn’t pay attention to football, there was definitely something wrong with us. I’m a Vol fan, like you. I’m just a bit tired of always saying ‘this is a rebuilding year,’ as if that’s an excuse for our shitty plays on the field.”

“Holy shit!” he laughed. “Not only can you catch a football, but you can talk football!” He smiled.

“Sure can. And I even know what I’m talking about.” I took another sip of wine and gazed at him over the rim of the glass. This was going well. Keep it together, Derek.

He grinned at me and paused. “Are you happy you came back?” he asked.

“At first, I wasn’t sure I did the right thing,” I admitted. “I have a tendency to run away. I ran away from here to New York, and then I ran away from New York to come back here. So at first, I was unsure. But I gotta tell you, right now it feels pretty damn good.”

He smiled at me and took a sip from his wine glass. It felt as though his eyes were burning a hole in me, he was staring so intently. On Kit’s advice, I had worn a blue and white checked button down, with the top two buttons unbuttoned, exposing just enough chest hair and a hint of my pectoral muscles. “Hey, you got ‘em, why not flaunt ‘em,” Kit had said.

I decided to make a move. “See something you like?” I said, and popped open one more button. His eyes traveled down to my chest, and didn’t stray. He just nodded, slowly, as if in a trance.

“I’m really attracted to dark haired… guys,” he said, as if saying the words for the first time made them true, and he needed to remind himself that it was okay. The next thing I knew, he reached up with his left hand, placed it behind my neck, and pulled my mouth forcefully to his. This was no soft, light kiss in the park. This was it. This was everything. Passion, emotion, pounding hearts and groping hands. We stood up so
fast we knocked the chairs down behind us. He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up along the wall. I felt as though he was going to consume me, and I loved it. His skin smelled of campfire wood, just as I remembered from our first hug outside my house after that night at the Firelight. The scent fueled my passion, and every sense was awakened. He reached down and pulled open the few remaining buttons of my shirt, and looked up at me while kissing my chest.

He stopped. “You’re vibrating,” he said.

It was my phone. The “emergency call” from Kit. “Ignore it,” I said.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Bedroom.” I said. “
Bedroom. Now
.”