Love Starved (20 page)

San Francisco was amazing, but
Micah never had time to think about anything but work. The conference left him exhilarated. Being among people who were passionate about the same things he was, witnessing the effects of their work, learning about new ideas and trends, always recharged his professional batteries. Presenting his company’s work and receiving feedback was important, too. But after five days of running from panel to panel, from presentation to workshop to evening drinks with fellow specialists, he was about ready to crumble from exhaustion. He said goodbye to Rob and Rebecca at the airport, took a cab and was asleep within minutes of getting home.

His phone rang late that afternoon, after he’d rested and had a proper meal and felt more or less like a human being again. Micah frowned when he looked at the display.

It was Ian, a PR guy from an IT company in St Paul. They’d met during the conference, at a marketing panel where Ian was presenting promotional strategies, and Micah had stayed behind to ask questions. They’d ended up having coffee and a fascinating conversation and exchanged phone numbers before parting. Good contacts within the local community were always valuable.

But why was he calling now?

Micah picked up the phone before it had a chance to go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Micah.” Ian’s voice was loud and confident in his ear. “How are you? I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No, no. I’m taking a day off after the madness. How are you?”

“I’m great. Listen, maybe we could grab a coffee now that we’re back? On a more… private ground this time?” When Micah didn’t respond immediately, he added, “Or we could have drinks if you prefer.”

“You mean… like a date?” Micah asked, trying very hard not to sound incredulous, or fourteen years old.

“Yeah, why not? You’re a great guy. I’d like to get to know you better.”

Speechless was the only way to describe how Micah felt. He hadn’t even thought about Ian that way, having been busy discussing professional details. But… the man was cute, in a mischievous schoolboy way, with a contagious laugh and expressive hands that never seemed to stay still. He was older than Micah, in his early thirties. They lived in adjoining cities and shared the same passions. The hour Micah had spent with him was entertaining, informative and definitely very pleasant. Why wouldn’t he want to go on a date with Ian? It was pretty clear by now that his determination never to date again had been bullshit, after all.

And yet.

“I’m sorry, Ian, I’m not really interested in dating right now,” he said.

“Why not? You said you were single.”

He had, in an off-hand response to a joke about wives and girlfriends never understanding their need to spend nights at the computer, which Micah was pretty sure had been an attempt to learn about his preferences.

“I am,” he admitted now. “But I’m kind of seeing someone and I want to see where that goes.”

“Oh.” The disappointment in Ian’s voice was clear. “Good luck then.”

“We could still have coffee,” Micah said, feeling oddly guilty. “Just as friends?”

“Sure.” It wasn’t enthusiastic. “I’ll call you.”

Micah knew he never would.

He sat staring at his phone, an empty feeling in his gut. Never before had he admitted, even to himself, that he saw Aiden as potentially more than a friend—that he secretly hoped there might be more to come than what they already had. Now, after a week away with hardly a moment to think about him beyond a few texts, it was suddenly so very clear. How could he not have realized earlier? Saying it out loud to Ian had made a swarm of butterflies take off in his stomach. But now, there was fear, too.

Theirs was an unusual relationship. And given Aiden’s job, there was more chance of hurt than there was of happiness if Micah got his hopes up.

But he couldn’t help it.

He didn’t contact Aiden immediately. Instead, he spent an hour at the piano, playing and thinking and letting himself
feel
openly, shocked to the core with the sudden clarity of his emotions. Then, with trembling fingers, he pulled up a new text message.

Are you free tonight? Can I come by?

Aiden opened the door with
his hair sticking out in every direction, flour on his cheek and a frantic look in his eyes. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a soft flannel shirt with his sleeves rolled up, his feet bare. Micah thought he’d never looked more beautiful.

“Sorry,” Aiden said over the music spilling from the apartment in a bubbly wave. “Is it eight already? I decided to try and bake a pie to celebrate your return, but I think it’s going to defeat me. The kitchen looks like a battlefield.”

It really did. There were eggshells and a thin layer of flour dust on the counters, what looked like egg white on the floor and an assortment of cups and spoons on the table, surrounded by an array of ingredients. The raw dough lay in the middle of this mess, looking rock hard and crumbly.

Micah looked around for a moment, astounded, and then grabbed Aiden and pulled him into a kiss, hard and hungry.

“Oh, thank God,” Aiden said happily against his lips when they parted for breath. “This I’m actually good at. Bedroom?”

They kissed their way through undressing, rolled around touching and stroking and stretching, and then Aiden fucked him, teasing every moan out of him until Micah was wild, begging for release, begging for kisses, wanting to be impossibly closer. They tumbled over the edge together, a feat they’d never yet managed, and it was amazing and exhilarating, and Micah felt as though a bubble of happiness exploded in his chest, light and effervescent. He felt invincible. Life was beautiful, there was joy everywhere, and hope was just within reach. Still catching his breath, sweaty and sticky and naked, Aiden smiled at him, that perfect, dimpled smile, his eyes bright, and Micah didn’t stop to think, couldn’t keep it in.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The moment the words left
his mouth, Micah knew he’d made a mistake. Aiden froze above him, his eyes widening. Oh, this wouldn’t be good.

“No,” Aiden said, sitting up. “No, you can’t be.” He got up, blindly reaching for his clothes, coming up with Micah’s instead and tossing them to him. Micah covered himself; the moment of perfect intimacy was over.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice shaking with the strain of going from bliss to apprehension in a heartbeat.

“Because you can’t.” Aiden wasn’t looking at him, pulling his pants on without bothering to find his underwear. “I have to go.”

Micah sat up, still clutching the blankets to his chest. “You live here.”

Aiden froze with his shirt in his hands. “Oh. Right. Then I think you need to go.”

“No.”

Aiden turned to him at last. His face was serious and pale; the contrast with the happy, smiling man who kissed Micah senseless just minutes ago was striking. Micah stubbornly raised his chin, gathering all the pride he could find while sitting naked in his lover’s bed.

“I’m not going anywhere until we’ve talked.”

“What’s there to talk about? You’re obviously deluded.”

That sounded harsher than Micah expected and he set his jaw, swallowing the instinct to get up and storm out.

“I’m not. I only shared what I feel, why would you think it’s a delusion?”

“Come on, isn’t it obvious?” Aiden snapped. “We’re friends, and lovers, and you’re confusing this with something it isn’t. You can lie to your parents, or your sister, but don’t lie to yourself, Micah. You deserve better than that.”

Aiden was fully dressed, his arms folded tightly over his chest like a shield. Micah, still sitting in the rumpled sheets, felt as if he couldn’t be more exposed. Still, he was determined to go through with this conversation since he had been reckless enough to start it in the first place.

“Better than what?” he asked.

“Better than—” Aiden started in a raised voice, but he broke off and just shook his head. Then he turned his back and stomped out to the living room. Through the open doorway, Micah could see him sit heavily on the couch, head in his hands.

“Aiden,” he started softly, but Aiden just shook his head.

“Please don’t.” All the fire had gone from his voice, leaving just resignation. Micah swallowed all the words that were swarming to get out and pushed the covers aside.

He dressed in silence, taking his time. When he got to the living room, Aiden was still sitting hunched over on the couch. His face was uncovered now, but that didn’t make Micah feel any better. He looked broken, every line of his body radiating tension, and Micah hated that it was he who had done that. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have—” But Aiden just held his palm up, shaking his head without looking up from the floor.

Standing there like this, so obviously unwelcome, was not really an option. Micah hesitated for a while longer, wishing with all his heart there was a way to turn back time. Just redoing the last ten minutes when everything had gone so catastrophically wrong, that was all he was asking for. The universe didn’t seem to be listening, though.

“Okay,” he mumbled eventually. “I’ll go. I’m sorry.”

Aiden didn’t react at all.

Micah found his shoes and the jacket that he’d thrown haphazardly over a chair in their desperate rush to get naked, put them on and left.

He heard Aiden’s voice just as he was about to close the door behind him.

“Micah, wait.”

Unsure whether he was imagining what he desperately wanted to hear, Micah turned back. Aiden was still sitting in the same place, his forearms on his thighs and his face radiating unhappiness, but at least he was looking at him now. Micah took a step back into the apartment, closed the door and leaned against it.

It was obvious that Aiden had to put a lot of effort into talking; every word was careful and deliberate. “I… care about you. I really do. But you can’t turn this into something it’s not. What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing,” Micah said with a calm he didn’t really feel, relieved that they were talking at all. “I don’t expect anything from you. I’m not asking you to feel something you don’t, or trying to change anything between us. But I… I had this realization, and okay, I probably shouldn’t have dumped it on you like that, it just… slipped. It’s okay, though. It doesn’t have to change anything.”

“How can it not change anything? How can you even think falling for me is a good idea?” Aiden ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. “I can’t be what you need, do you understand? You will only get your heart broken again, Micah. Please don’t do that to yourself.”

Micah smiled, a slow, sweet smile with just a hint of sadness, and walked over to sit next to Aiden, careful to give him as much space as the couch allowed.

“See, that’s the thing; I don’t need you to reciprocate to be able to appreciate what I’m feeling. I’m not sitting here planning our future together, like I would have eight years ago. But I’m feeling something I thought I would never feel again, and I’m happy about it.” That was something he’d understood as he was sitting at the piano after his revelation. It shocked him, how different it was from what he’d known before, but it was a good shock, ultimately. He felt… whole.

“I understand that you don’t feel the same, and that there can’t be more between us than there’s been so far, and it’s okay. You’re giving me plenty, Aiden.”

“You’re settling for having less than you deserve.”

“No. I’m happy with what I have. If I need more, if I decide I want an exclusive boyfriend, I will worry about it then. Right now, everything I need is here.”

Aiden shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Or, okay, you probably will at some point, but I will likely hurt you too. People do that, sometimes, even when they don’t want to. Even when they’re best friends. And if we do, we’ll just get over it, okay? We’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Aiden said quietly. He seemed almost desperate, a pleading look in his eyes. “You’re important to me, Micah. If I drive you away—”

Micah shook his head, completely calm now. “You won’t. I promise.” Then he opened his arms. “Come here.”

The hug was brief and stilted, and Micah still went home soon afterward because Aiden said he needed some time alone. But the important thing was that they had talked and didn’t part in anger or confusion. They would be all right, Micah thought. They had to be all right.

Micah wished he could say
they really were all right in the aftermath, but he honestly didn’t know. They never had sex anymore, but that was to be expected; it made sense that being intimate was, well,
too
intimate now. Aiden was careful around him, too, keeping more distance and measuring his words, determined not to say or do anything that could give Micah the wrong idea or “lead him on,” as he said once. Even the easy, innocent touches that Micah cherished so much didn’t happen nearly so often anymore, and he missed them dearly.

But there was more to it, and Micah wasn’t sure it was all due to his unplanned confession. As November days trickled by, it seemed more and more as if Aiden was slipping through his fingers. Their friendship was still there, but wearing thin, loose, flickering like a dying candle. Aiden had less and less time to spend together, and when they did manage to meet, he smiled less and got lost in his thoughts more. Once, Micah saw him limping.

“Just a work injury,” Aiden shrugged it off. “I pulled some muscles; it happens sometimes with the more demanding clients. I can’t take painkillers anymore unless I really need to, which makes it more annoying, but it’s nothing serious. I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

The way he winced when he thought Micah wasn’t looking didn’t seem like nothing serious. Micah wanted to call him out on it, but with everything so out of balance between them, he didn’t dare push, unwilling to risk any kind of conflict when he was unsure where they stood with each other. Still, he worried. Something was off.

And he was about to see just how bad it was.