Chapter 11 #2
“I had a great time,” I say, taking the cigarette back, our fingers briefly grazing. “I’m glad we did this. And don’t be too hard on your kid. I think you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a teenager.”
“I had a great time, too.” Kyle’s eyes drop to my lips. “We should do it again sometime.”
Fucking hell! Why does Kyle always have to push too far?
“You knew the terms, Davies. Don’t ruin shit now.
You don’t have to carry this guilt around anymore.
We’re good. Let it go.” I turn to open my car door, but Kyle grabs my wrist. Tight and possessive.
I steel my expression then turn back to face him, shaking my head with a definite no. He releases me.
Opening the door of my Ute, I slip into the driver’s seat, refusing to make eye contact again. I start the engine and pull away.
By the time I arrive home I feel completely and utterly hollow inside, like I left a part of myself somewhere else.
Picking up my toothbrush, I squeeze on a line of toothpaste and start brushing.
For the past two days, thoughts of my evening with Kyle have circled around my head, showing no signs of letting up.
I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt to spend time with him and how easily the conversation flowed.
It was different being around someone who truly understands where I come from and what I lived through in my childhood.
While we both clawed our way out of poverty and built better lives for ourselves, what’s sad is that we'd meant to do it together. That’s what we’d planned before everything went to shit.
I chuckle, thinking about how much fun we’d had hustling those dickheads at pool.
It felt so damn good to show Kyle I don’t give a shit about being gay anymore and that I no longer care about being seen as masculine or straight.
And who would’ve thought it would be me dragging Kyle out of a bar after being called faggots and not the other way around?
I rinse my mouth then pull off my pyjama top, thinking about Kyle’s bipolar diagnosis. I hate how it affected what we had together. I wonder how different our lives would have been if he’d never gotten sick. Would we have stayed together?
Back then, Kyle had been the only light in a world filled with darkness.
I smile, remembering him working behind the counter at the local petrol station when he was sixteen.
Skinny and lanky because he’d grown too fast, but with the sweetest smile and a heart full of hope.
It didn’t matter how much of an asshole I was to him, he still loved me.
Well, I like to believe he did. He never did say those three words and it haunted me for all the days and nights I spent incarcerated.
While I was working in the prison kitchen, I would relentlessly question the choices I’d made, wondering if things would’ve turned out differently if I’d had the courage to say it earlier. I’d known Kyle was waiting for me to say it first. That he’d waited years.
What was I so afraid of?
Now, at forty years old, it baffles me. If I’d had the balls to stand up to my foster dad and refuse to marry Tiffany, if I’d had the courage to leave and take Kyle with me, would I now be happily married to him and not Chris?
With that thought still rattling around in my head, Chris joins me in the bathroom as I’m stripping down to my briefs.
We’re really in a rut right now and I need to put in more effort to spice things up.
But I’ve never really had that kind of relationship with Chris.
I’ve never felt that unquenchable thirst for him.
After Kyle, I never wanted to feel that vulnerable, that out of control, ever again.
What I have with Chris is enjoyable but controlled.
That’s what I craved when I got out of prison.
“Chris, I’m about to take a shower, you wanna join me?” I raise one eyebrow suggestively.
Chris sighs. “Sweetheart, I’m already dressed. I’ll be late for work if I don’t get going.”
I push Chris up against the wall and grind my body against him. “So be late for once,” I coax. “You’re never late. Hey, what about if I just blow you.” I press hot, wet kisses to Chris’s neck as I try to undo his belt.
“Come on, Dan, I’ll be late.” Chris gently pushes me away, placing a hand on my chest. “Tonight, I promise.”
“Hey, how about we sneak into the movies this weekend?”
Chris frowns, eyebrows bunching. “Why would we do that? We might get caught.”
“That’s what makes it fun. The excitement of maybe gettin’ caught.”
Chris plants a quick peck on my cheek. “I think we’re too old to act like dumb teenagers. How about we just pay, and I’ll buy you an extra-large popcorn?”
Refusing to give up, I grab Chris by the ass and pull his hips to mine. “How about we sit up the back and I make you come during the big fight scene?”
“Bloody hell Dan, what’s gotten into you? Knowing my luck, we’d get arrested for indecent exposure.” Chris pulls away and backs out of the bathroom. “I’ll see you for dinner. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” I mumble as I turn to reach for the shower taps.