Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
AUSTIN
How was that possible? What were the chances of running into Dallas again in such a big city? We’d barely spent fifteen minutes together one night while I was trying to escape my mental hell. Yet that kiss we shared had such an impact on me. It had been too much too fast before the guilt hit, so I ran.
During my better days, I’d often think about that kiss. Eventually, I grew obsessed with it, so much so that I started to sketch it and paint it, creating an entirely new series, which currently sat in a gallery. I’d made a substantial amount of money on that fucking kiss I couldn’t forget. It was the only beautiful thing among all that ugliness I’d endured.
After I ran from Dallas for the second time in my life, I stood in front of the massive canvas hanging over my sofa in the open living room, staring at the larger-than-life men, their nude bodies abstractly and sensually entwined in a passionate kiss. It was a mixture of hope and depression. It gave me a small glimpse of all that I could’ve had, but something I’d denied myself since that fateful night.
Dallas had been my last kiss. No man had ever kissed me again because I hadn’t allowed anyone into my life.
Logically, I understood I could have sex again, despite being HIV positive. My helper T-cell and CD4 counts were good, and my blood kept coming back with a negative viral load. It was all under control as long as I consistently got my injections every two months. But there was a lingering fear and stigma.
People understood about it more and more, but if I thought coming out as gay had been hard, coming out as HIV positive was next to impossible. Who would want to date me when they could have someone free of such things? Not to mention, my sexual drive was low… more like non-existent. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d rubbed one out.
But seeing Dallas today did something to me. My body flickered to life like a lightbulb, struggling to stay lit, flickering and flickering until it shone bright. My body was doing that for the first time in two years.
Tormenting thoughts forced their way into my brain.
You’re not good enough.
You’re ruined.
Why would he want you?
No one will ever love you.
You don’t trust anyone, anyway.
I’d been in therapy, but it was still new. It took me a year and a half to even get the balls to do that as I wallowed in self-pity from hell.
My therapist had been working with me to build my confidence and bring my family back into my life, who’d been constantly worried about me, but I’d pushed them out, especially my brother. Sure, I still saw them, but it wasn’t often.
I walked over to my fridge, grabbed a bottle of beer, and opened the cap, tossing it into the garbage. Then returned to my living room, and sat in a chair. I leaned back, took a sip, and stared at the painting.
The black abstract lines morphed and twisted along the white space of the canvas, mingling with spatters and scrapes of paint in beige, brown, yellow, and blue. The men shifted in my vision until I started to see more hope than ruin.
Why?
Because Dallas was here, living in my building. Because he felt the same way I had that night.
“You don’t have to be alone, Austin. We are learning more about HIV every day. While there is still a stigma associated with it, people are more understanding and less afraid of it. People are even dating more often with partners who have it. I’m certain you’ll be able to find love again,” my therapist said.
“It’s not only the stigma,” I whispered, fidgeting my hands on my lap, unable to look at her.
“Yes, then there’s Alex’s damage. We’ve been dealing with your trust issues, and we still have a long way to go, but I’d like you to try to remember that even if we’ve been hurt, we should always start with trust unless they prove otherwise. That’s the only way to build a strong foundation. They will never be Alex, Austin. In time, I believe you can open up your heart to someone again and that someone will love you in return.”
I wanted to be brave and embrace this weird fate thing with Dallas.
I looked at my half-empty beer bottle with a sudden trembling hand because I was about to leap—a leap I hadn’t taken in two years. It was slightly terrifying. Dallas could reject me when he learned the truth, and if he did, there would be others who’d do the same. But how would I know unless I finally got the balls to get out there again?
Life had been fucking lonely.
I stood, raised the beer in cheers to my painting, and chugged the rest of it back.
Who knew how long I stood in front of the door with brass numbers reading 1016, carrying a bottle of Cabernet.
My stomach twisted in painful knots, so much so that I thought I’d be sick a couple of times. And three times, I’d walked away only to turn back around and scowl at the door as if it offended me somehow.
I cursed at my weakness. I cursed at my fear. Most of all, I cursed Dallas for threatening to toss my carefully constructed life into an upheaval mess. But that damn flickering of hope wanted to turn on to full brightness. That was the only thing that kept me rooted in front of his door.
Sweat dripped along my back, and I wiggled at the tickling sensation. I quickly sniffed my pits to make sure my sweat hadn’t turned sour. It was all good there. My deodorant was being a trooper. Perhaps I should buy it in bulk, or maybe some stock in the company.
You’re digressing, Austin.
Fuck it.
My raised fist hovered over the wooden door until I finally rapped my knuckles on it.
Several seconds later, which felt like hours, the door opened to the scents of something Italian mingled with the spice of his cologne that I couldn’t forget had I tried, bringing back a flood of memories from that night.
His pretty blue eyes went wide. “You’re… here.” His words were breathy, a mere whisper.
Shit, Dallas looked so handsome, wearing a simple button-up in pale blue with the sleeves rolled up and tucked into dark wash jeans while his feet were bare.
“I…ah… Is this a bad time? You’re cooking. I’m sorry. I’ll…”
I turned on my heels as my face burned so hot it turned to ash, but a gentle hand on my arm pulled me back.
“Don’t go.”
His earnestness and sincerity kept me from running again.
“Come in,” he said, waving me in. “Please.”
I paused for a moment before I got the balls to step inside.
His condo was much smaller than mine, but it didn’t look dissimilar with its open floor plan and brick walls. But my place was more chaotic, crammed with all things art. His was neat and cozy with simple, modern furniture. Although, he had several cardboard boxes tucked into corners, clearly having just moved in.
“I… did I interrupt your dinner?” I asked.
He smiled brightly, exposing those expensive teeth as his blue eyes, the color of faded denim, twinkled. His nearly black hair made his eyes just pop, especially with those thick lashes. But it was the dimples that really sucked me in.
“Not at all. In fact, the lasagna in the oven is for tomorrow night. I have a friend in town, and we plan to spend the holidays together. I wanted to make something nice for Christmas Eve tomorrow.”
“Oh, is this friend…”
“Is just a friend. Ally. We’ve known each other since college.”
He held out his hand. “Is that for me?”
I rubbed my neck as I handed him the bottle. I was entirely out of my element. Two years was all it took for me to forget how to date entirely. “Ah, yeah.”
He took it from me and smiled again. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting company tonight, so I don’t have anything to eat. I was just going to order some takeout. Would you… like to stay and eat with me?”
God, I wish my stomach would stop flipping around. It was starting to hurt.
“Uh, sure.”
“What are you in the mood for?”
I shrugged. “I’m not picky.”
“How about Thai?”
“That sounds perfect.”
“What do you like?”
“Uhm, some red curry with chicken would be great.”
“Sounds good. Let me pour us a glass of this lovely wine, and I’ll order it for delivery on my phone app. Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll be right there?”
I nodded and smoothed out my sweater, though it wasn’t wrinkled. I walked into his living room and sat on his comfortable sofa, which was in the middle, facing out at the stunning view of Lake Michigan. He shared the same view as me.
When he returned, he handed me a glass of wine and sat next to me, curling his leg under him. “So, Austin. Let’s talk.”
Here goes nothing.
Full transparency. No point in beating around the bush.
This was my make-or-break moment.