Chapter 8 TARAN #3
“Did anyone say they were disappointed?”
I shrugged. “Not really. Not directly to me. Honestly, covid happened right after, pretty much, so I was old news. There were some comments here and there on social media and stuff that got to me secondhand. He couldn’t hack it, he sucked all along, whatever. It wasn’t fun, but it was true, so…”
“You didn’t suck.”
I didn’t suck, but then I did, and that was just facts. “But my point is, those people didn’t matter to me anymore, so I wasn’t bent out of shape about it.”
He pursed his pretty lips, stirring his drink. “Tell me about your list.”
“The—the list of stuff I need to work on?”
“Yeah. You mentioned it ages ago. Like, the night of the wedding. I got the idea that you were working on not feeling like a disappointment, but what else?”
His interest shouldn’t have taken me off-guard, in retrospect, but in the moment, it really did. Possibly because I was still getting used to his thing for having deep conversations in public places. “I mean, I don’t really care about being a disappointment anymore.”
“Then why does it keep coming up?”
My eyebrows went up without my permission.
He winced too. “Sorry, that sounded harsher out loud than in my head. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on in there.”
“It’s not that exciting.”
“I’ll make up my own mind, thanks very much.”
I chuckled, as flattered that he was interested as I was uncomfortable trying to articulate this stuff. But this was what I wanted, me and him, being honest with each other. So I’d have to find a fucking way, wouldn’t I?
“I guess… It is a fact that I’ve disappointed a lot of people. So all I can do is acknowledge and accept it. Normally I’d say I need to do better, but I think in this case, I need to prioritize doing better for the people who actually matter.”
“Do you feel like you disappointed Jennie?”
“I mean, obviously.” I snorted.
“But you don’t care.” The way he said it made it clear he knew it wasn’t true.
“I care. Well, I cared. But I accepted it and that made it less… painful, I guess. So I’m just trying to do that with everything, and let it inform how I prioritize in the future.”
“A lot of people question everything when a long-term relationship ends,” he said. “I do it all the time. But you’re so… introspective about it. It’s like the complete opposite of how I go about it.”
“How do you?”
“No, no. First, I wanna hear the list.”
I smiled. “So, obviously, accepting things I’ve fucked up in the past, admitting to them, taking responsibility for them. Not repeating them.”
“Sounds healthy. So does this include the thing where you just avoid anyone you feel like you’ve failed?”
I winced again. “Uh. I wouldn’t say…”
“Look, I don’t care if you never text Jennie again. All I’m saying is, it’s a pattern, clearly. Me, your friends, your exes…”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.” Then he sat straighter. “Actually, no, I’m not.”
“Don’t be. We should talk about it. And you’re right—my last few texts to you after I left were generic at best, and then I just stopped replying because it… was easier than coming up with something relevant but not emotional to say.”
“Easier in that it let you pretend you didn’t care?”
Fuck, just eviscerating me over cocktails here. “I mean, I might’ve been trying for that, but it sure as hell didn’t work.”
He leaned forward suddenly, reaching across the table.
I took his hand.
He squeezed. “I know. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on in your head. I’m not mad or sad about it anymore. I swear.”
I nodded and tried to smile.
He kept my hand in his. “You think that was the first time you just disengaged from something hard, like that?”
I blew out a sigh. “Nothing was ever hard before, honestly.”
He chuckled, eyes twinkling. “Yeah, sounds right. At least, you made everything look easy.”
I couldn’t lie, “It was. Everything was easy, and no one asked me to do anything I didn’t want. Not great training for the real world.”
“No, but definitely what most people would call an ideal, privileged childhood.”
“Which I’m grateful for. Except not.”
He nodded. “Starting to get that.”
“Different from yours, huh? Even though we grew up in the same place?”
“Could not be more different.” But he was smiling. “Maybe that’s why you fascinate me.”
“Fascinate?” I couldn’t help it; I laughed.
“I’m serious!” He squeezed me again. “You’re really soft and squishy on the inside. Most people would have a hard exterior to keep it safe, but you’re just… hard to pin down instead.”
I was not the one being hard to pin down, but I managed not to say that. I took a drink instead.
He said, “You’re good at disappearing and letting go. Or you want to be. It’s your coping mechanism.”
“Is it?”
“My old therapist would say so.” He patted my hand and then took his back as the server arrived with appetizers.
When she was gone, Diego asked, “Who do you hang out with, apart from me?”
“I do happy hour with Bettina and Kyle and some people.”
“Right, but like, friend-friends.”
“Honestly, most of the people I know here are Jennie’s friends. She went to Pitt, so she has a bunch here. And when we broke up…” I flinched.
“You disappeared?”
“Fuck.” I sighed.
“Isn’t that lonely?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Honestly, no. I’m… fine by myself. I like people; I do fine with them.”
“They love you.”
“Some.” I shrugged. “But as long as I have a couple of really important people…”
“I get it. It’s the opposite of me, but I get it. I mean, I do prioritize, for sure. Obviously. Been in your pocket all month.” He grinned.
It relaxed me. I stole a pot sticker from the plate in front of him.
“Do we wanna continue with the list, or is that enough reading you for filth for one day?”
I chuckled. “Probably enough, but if you wanna keep going, I’m up for it.”
“Nah.”
Thank god, because the next thing on my list was the weird, internalized homophobia years of football culture (and my dad) had built into me. Jesus.
“Did you bring clothes?” he asked.
I blinked a few times, trying to figure out where the conversation had gotten away from me.
He clarified, “For the weekend? Are you staying tonight?”
I nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, if you still want.”
“That’s why I invited you.” He glanced down at his plate, his smile going secretive. He licked his lips. “I can’t stop thinking about Tuesday night.”
Okay, now I really relaxed. “Yeah? I mean, if there’s other stuff you want to—um, try, I’m pretty open.”
“I can see that.” He met my gaze again, smile spreading wider until it showed his gap. “But what about you?”
“I mean, I just wanted an excuse to touch you for as long as possible,” I said with a chuckle. There was more to it than that, admittedly, but I wasn’t sure how to articulate it without sounding ridiculous. Or insane.
Amazingly, he flushed. “Good.”
“And you?”
“I guess I like…” He trailed off and cocked his head.
After a few silent seconds, I tried, “Well, what did you like about that?”
He laughed. “Apart from the orgasm.”
I had to laugh, too. “Or what contributed to making it good, I guess?”
“I liked… that you went to all that trouble. I liked that you didn’t care if I was focusing on you, because you were so focused on me. I liked that it turned you on to take care of me like that,” he said, still smiling but thoughtful.
Aaaand now my jeans were way too fucking tight across the front. “It really did,” I said. Maybe a little too enthusiastically.
Would it be too much to confess that sometimes I just wanted to pin him down and make him cum again and again and again?
Yeah, okay. That wasn’t quite the vibe tonight. But god, I wanted it. I wanted him.
He licked his lips again and repeated, “Good.”
“So, if you think of other ways you’d like to be, uh, taken care of, just let me know?” I suggested. Because I already had about a hundred ideas, myself.
“Honestly, you making me dinner all the time is almost as good.” He laughed.
I did too. But he had a point.
And I had some serious insight all of a sudden. Even if he had changed the subject to sex just to get out of an awkward point in the conversation in his usual Diego way… that didn’t mean what came out of it wasn’t true.