Chapter 3 #3
I could never date someone who was in the closet, not long-term. And did I even want to date anyone, anyway? I’d just been thinking about how content I was with no-feelings hookups. And that was highly satisfying.
But . . . maybe, with Miles, I wanted to try. Maybe.
I supposed it would all depend on what came out of his mouth next.
He flipped his hand around, grasping mine, interlacing our fingers. Goosebumps broke out along my arms as I watched him with wide eyes, waiting for him to speak with bated breath.
“I want you, Atlas. I’ve never felt attraction to another person this strongly before.
Maybe it’s because we knew each other in high school, but this isn’t just a carryover from my latent high school crush.
” My eyes widened at that. He crushed on me even back then?
“I’m attracted to you, yes, but I also want to get to know you now, as an adult, and—”
He cut himself off, pulling his hand from mine and pushing to his feet to pace the room. I watched him, wanting to know what he was going to say but afraid to interrupt him.
“God, Atlas, you’re . . . fuck, I don’t know what’s even happening. But I . . . you’re full of life and energy and joy, and you deserve better than being hidden in the shadows. And I’m just a closeted gay man who is too scared of what people think to admit I’m not into women. Shit!”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair, wrenching a lot of it from the bun as if he’d forgotten it was pulled back.
With a growl of frustration, he yanked out the elastic hair tie and snapped it around his wrist, shoving locks of dark-brown wavy hair behind his ears as he paced in front of my coffee table.
He could only get about three steps before he had to turn around in the small space, but that wasn’t stopping him.
Abruptly, he froze. As he slowly turned toward me, my heart stuttered in my chest. I got the horrible feeling that I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.
“Atlas, I . . . I want you so badly. You’re worth coming out for, I believe that with everything I am.
But I also know . . .” His gaze locked with mine, and the sorrow in his brown eyes was unmistakable. “I’m not ready.”
My stomach dropped as he continued.
“Fuck, I wish I was ready. I wish I could walk outside right now and shout to the whole goddamn town that I’m into you.”
My gut clenched at that. Oh, how I wanted that, too.
“But I . . . I need to work on my shit before I could ever do that. I don’t . . . I’m a goddamn mess, Atlas, and you deserve to be with someone who has their shit together.”
He stopped talking then, his chest heaving as he stared at me. I raised an eyebrow, a light smile playing on my lips. “Are you done venting?”
Miles nodded.
“Can I share my thoughts?”
He rolled his hand in the space between us. “Please.”
I stood so we were closer to eye level, the coffee table still between us. “I understand, Miles. I get it. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. I respect you for acknowledging that, actually.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice tentative and soft, almost like a child’s. My heart squeezed.
“Yeah.” I smiled softly, but it was sad. Missed opportunities always sucked, but for some reason, this one hit a lot harder than I would have expected. “It takes a lot of balls to admit something like that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
I circled the coffee table to place my hand on his bicep. Fuck, those muscles. I’d be jerking off to them later. “Is it weird to say I’m proud of you?”
He blushed adorably again, and my Daddy instincts—a mere whisper before—started shouting at me. “Thank you, Atlas. That’s not weird at all. Actually, I think I needed to hear it.”
My smile, though still gloomy, was genuine. “I’m glad.”
Miles scrubbed a hand over his face again before glancing at the door. “If you ever want to hang out, I’d be up for that.”
I nodded, knowing that likely wouldn’t happen. I couldn’t be around this man without wanting him, and that would get me into all sorts of trouble. I knew my brain. I’d likely talk myself into the occasional dalliance with him on the down low, but I needed more than that in a relationship.
The fact I was even considering a relationship with him told me there was more between us than a hookup. But I’d never been in the closet, and I wasn’t going to start now. I couldn’t.
He walked over to the door but turned around with his hand on the knob. “Oh, you should probably have my number in case you need anything. You’re new to town and all and—shit! I was supposed to fix your internet.”
I opened my mouth to dismiss his concern, but he cut me off.
“No, I’m the only one in the area who can do it. Let me go grab my stuff, and I’ll get you squared away in no time.”
I nodded, watching him open the door and walk out to his truck, which was parked on the curb. He was back inside quickly, and I showed him the unit I’d been sent, explained that it wasn’t working, demonstrated what I’d tried. He worked quietly and quickly, only asking questions when he needed to.
And one awkward-as-fuck half hour later, once my internet was good to go, he dropped a business card with his number on it on my coffee table and was out the door.