6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Hugo
“ Y ou look like your puppy just died.” Renee eyed me.
I tried to glare. “I don’t have a puppy.” Hadn’t been allowed one as a child. I’d thought maybe when I married, but Gavin had an allergy to every animal known to man. Even hypoallergenic ones. Then I was single—working and volunteering all the time. Puppies just weren’t possible.
Grouch had been the one companion in my life. The old cat showed up at my door one day, let himself in when I opened said door, and had made himself at home. I fashioned a litter box, bought food, and put fliers up around the neighborhood. Even posted on social media.
A neighbor let me know Grouch was a feral cat who’d lived in the neighborhood for years. She didn’t believe he had an actual owner.
I took him to a wonderful vet—whom Grouch determinedly didn’t like. I got him fixed and cared for him. He was pretty old, and the vet was surprised he’d survived so long on the streets. In the end, he didn’t last two years.
As much as I wanted to get a kitten, or even an older rescue cat, to replace him, I still worked tons of hours. Grouch hadn’t cared. He’d asked very little of me—just shelter, food, and petting. I’d given all that freely. But love couldn’t keep him going forever.
Cope nudged me. “Okay, now you’ve got me worried too.”
Right. Because spacing out thinking about a long-dead feral cat I once housed is totally normal behavior for a functioning adult.
Except I didn’t feel like I was functioning. My circuits were completely fried. Axel had done this. Specifically, kissing Axel Townsend had completely derailed me in every possible way. I wasn’t certain coherent words were even possible. “I’m fine.”
Renee laughed. “Oh, Hugo, you’re anything but fine . You’re the opposite of fine. We leave you alone for just a day and we come back to find you completely…” She scrunched her nose.
“Decompensating.” Cope with his cute psychological terms.
“Oh, good one.” Renee slapped my thigh. “Honestly, Hugo, what’s up?”
“Hey, isn’t Grindstone rehearsing now?” Cope checked his watch. “Right now.”
Renee leapt from her chair, then reached to grab my arm.
“I think they’re already done.” They were. I knew this because I’d watched, hidden behind some sound equipment. Well, peeked. And listened. As they’d run through their entire playlist.
“How did we miss that?” Renee punched me in the biceps.
Hard.
I shrugged. “You were late coming back from Reno. I knew they’d already performed, so I didn’t say anything. We’ll see them tomorrow night.”
“How were they?” Renee dropped back into her camping chair.
Cope, who hadn’t actually risen with his enthusiastic wife, settled back more comfortably. “Yes, why didn’t you say anything?”
“They were amazing. They’re always amazing. But I didn’t want you to feel bad for missing the rehearsal. I’m certain they’ll be even better tomorrow.” Not that they’d been perfect tonight. A little…I sought the right word. Harried? Rushed? Possibly. But given how many bands had to get in a rehearsal, their speed was hardly surprising.
No way Axel could’ve seen me, though. Did he know I was there? That I heard every note? That I regretted walking away from the most passionate kiss of my life?
Way to end a dry spell.
Over and over, I told myself I was too busy for a relationship. That although I wasn’t in the closet, I also wasn’t out. School administrators knew. I didn’t hide my sexuality—I just didn’t advertise it either. And possibly to the detriment of kids like Ed and Axel who could’ve used a safe teacher to share their confusion with. I’d never sensed either was bi. And maybe…no, Axel made it clear Ed was. Right? And he’d not come out and said it, but I worked with the assumption he wouldn’t have kissed me that passionately if he was straight.
“I think you’re reliving the show.” Cope grinned.
“Or his misbegotten youth.” Renee grinned. “He once wanted to be a rock star.”
Cope and I both groaned. We’d heard her retelling of this story so often. I’d been part of a Nirvana cover band one summer in the late nineties. We’d barely been teenagers. My parents, upon securing a promise of good grades in exchange for high-end music equipment, allowed me and my friends to set up a mini-studio in our massive basement. Nothing had come from it—we’d been a pretty talentless bunch—but my love of music was cemented.
After that, I’d applied myself diligently to learning as much as humanly possible about music, music theory, and bands. Only not rock bands. No, I saw my strength would be in nurturing talent. Completing my musicology studies at the University of British Columbia led to obtaining a teaching degree then heading with my lofty ideals to the roughest part of Vancouver, intending to make a difference. Not look back at my ridiculously brief performing days. “We agreed to never speak of this again.”
Renee fluttered her eyelashes. “Speak of what?”
“Of me getting wasted one night and letting you listen to the recordings.” The tapes of my Nirvana cover songs. I should’ve thrown them out years ago. Part of me, though, longed to relive those days. When life had been simpler. When all I’d had to do was promise my parents good grades and I’d gotten a summer free of responsibilities. Kids in my neighborhood hadn’t needed to get part-time jobs. We could fuck around all we wanted, with mommy and daddy’s money supporting us. Given the few horror stories we’d heard about drug addiction, it didn’t surprise me that my parents chose to keep me close at hand. Plus, the basement had been soundproofed.
“I think we should make Copeland listen to the recordings.” Renee’s grin widened.
My stomach sank. Letting her listen to them while I’d been drowning in alcohol after the dissolution of my marriage was one thing. Listening to them sober to someone whose opinion I respected was something else entirely. I’d tried that—with Gavin. He’d ridiculed me. From that moment on, I’d sworn no one would ever hear them again.
Should’ve destroyed them .
Except I would’ve missed out on that maudlin night with my best friend as I drunkenly railed against my asshole ex-husband for abandoning me and stealing all my hopes and dreams of having a family of my own.
“I think that’s a brilliant idea.” Copeland gently nudged my knee with his.
I both loved and hated how comfortable my friends were. They were secure enough in their relationship that they didn’t always need to sit next to each other. To fawn over each other. To hold hands. Not to say they didn’t do plenty of that—they did. But I enjoyed they didn’t rub their couplehood in my face.
What that also meant, however, is they felt comfortable boxing me in on both sides and having way too much fun getting handsy with me. Nudges, smacks on the arm, kisses on the cheek.
You love the affection and attention .
Okay, so yeah. Given that was all I got, I did enjoy the closeness we all shared. When I first met Cope, and saw how taken he was with Renee, and she with him, I’d assumed I’d lose my best friend. The opposite happened. Now, in all practical senses, I had two best friends.
“Sheesh, Hugo.” Renee angled herself so she was no longer watching concertgoers wander by as the sun crested the horizon. “You’re all up in yourself today. You keep wandering off.”
“I haven’t moved a muscle.” Yet her meaning was clear. And I couldn’t dispute it. “I think I’m going to bed.” I’d have a piss, brush my teeth, and call it a night.
“Your tent will still be hot.” Renee glared.
“I opened the flaps hours ago, and there’s a nice breeze. I’m going to be fine.” Personally, I would’ve been happy to nearly suffocate in a blazing-hot enclosed space if it got me away from the scrutiny she aimed in my direction.
Cope rose. “I enjoyed that beer a little too much. I’m coming with you.”
Renee rose as well. “I’m wandering over to the main stage to see what’s going on.”
“I’ll join you in a bit.” Cope looped his arm around her, tugged her in for a kiss, then gently let her go.
The casual affection tightened my chest. I wanted that with someone. And, if I was honest, had never had it. Gavin hadn’t been affectionate. Aggressive in bed? Certainly. Gently and caring out of it? No. Especially not with other people around. He had a reputation as a hard-nosed businessman to maintain.
Or so he’d claimed.
The grapevine informed me, on occasion, how he made a show of affection with his second husband. How happy he looked. Implicit was the criticism that not only had he not been happy with me—but that somehow I was to blame. That I was at fault for not being a good enough husband. That I hadn’t initiated mushiness and therefore Gavin had been forced to seek it elsewhere. The exact opposite was true…but I never bothered to argue my side. People saw what they wanted to see.
And I tried not to become embittered as I heard how happy Gavin was. When I saw how happy my best friends were.
I snagged my toothbrush. “Let’s go, Cope.”
Renee headed off toward the distant music while Cope and I trudged to the washrooms. He didn’t push me to talk, and I was grateful.
After I’d done everything I needed to do, I headed back to our tents. Renee had secured our set-up, and all I needed to do was crawl into my tent. I didn’t feel claustrophobic, even though the fit was tight. I was slightly chilled, though, as the sun had set and a light breeze had picked up. This late in October, some nights could be cool this high in the mountains, even if we were still in a desert. As some residual heat lasted from the day, I opted to lie on a blanket draped over my air mattress with my sleeping bag loosely over me.
I fingered my ear plugs as I killed the battery-powered lantern. I hated wearing them, but I was also a pretty light sleeper. Every recommendation website I’d checked said they were a must.
Huh.
As I replayed my day, they slipped from my fingers onto the mattress. Easily within reach if I needed them.
Axel.
Okay. I’d known he’d be here, so seeing him hadn’t been unexpected. He’d invited me for a catch-up, so I couldn’t claim surprise at that. Him baring his soul to be hadn’t been expected.
Had he really, though? We’d spent time talking about my ex, about that final confrontation, and about how my withholding something very personal from my students hurt. I honestly had never thought my coming out might make things easier for my kids.
Or so you tell yourself. You’re just a coward .
Well, that wasn’t a lie. I was afraid students and parents would see me differently because they would. Obviously the bigots and homophobes would have one perspective. Allies could be just as unwavering—and expecting me to represent. I just wanted to focus on teaching and music. And teaching music. Who I dated, and might even take to bed, wasn’t anyone’s business.
Which looped me back to Axel.
You’re thinking too much .
Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t seeing what lay before me. Maybe I was replaying that kiss over and over and over again. His soft lips pliant against mine. His hard cock rubbing against me. The desperation I’d felt. The obvious need he’d felt. Those formed a heady combination I couldn’t get out of my mind.
Unbidden, my hand slithered down my body, tucking itself under my waistband until it surrounded my erection. The erection I shouldn’t have.
Axel needed to remain untouchable. Until I’d seen him yesterday, he had been. Honest to Christ, I’d never looked at him that way. I could admit he’d grown into an attractive man and he was often accompanied in photos and stories I’d seen by women who met society’s high—and stupid—perception of beauty. As a teacher, I spent my time trying to raise the self-esteem of kids who weren’t viewed as good-looking. Like that mattered. A guy could be devastatingly handsome and still be, as Axel had less than tactfully put it, a motherfucker.
Still, when character and looks came together, that was heady stuff. Like Axel. Need snaked within me, heating me. Almost to the point where I could push off the sleeping bag. But then I’d get cold. Somehow, staying hot reminded me of the afternoon sun. Of Axel’s dark-brown skin. Of the steamy look in his eyes when he’d leaned down to kiss me.
Fucking hell, I was going to do it. I was going to masturbate in a tent two feet away from my best friends.
They’re not there.
But they could come back.
Good thing you didn’t put in your earplugs .
Not only did I hate hearing my breathing with plugged ears—I didn’t want to be caught unaware. I couldn’t imagine Renee poking her head in my tent. But that lack of imagination had bitten me on the butt more than once in our many years of friendship.
I tugged on my cock.
Need thrummed in my blood.
Normally, things took time. I was older.
I imagined him. Remembered him. His skin. His taste. How I’d wanted his tongue swirling around my cock instead of inside my mouth. How I’d damn nearly come in my jeans in a semi-public place. How, if I could’ve made it work, I would’ve dragged him back behind the truck and we would’ve fucked. Me in jeans and him in leather pants would’ve made life interesting—but we would’ve figured it out. He’d always been creative. I’d always been clever.
Cum erupted from me and spurted over my hand. Belatedly, I realized I should’ve used a tissue or something to try to cope with the sticky mess.
I let out a long sigh, trying to school my harsh breathing.
God, I hope no one can hear me.
Ah well, this was Rocktoberfest. People everywhere in the area were getting lucky. Getting laid.
Hell, Axel was probably getting lucky.
Getting laid.
Yeah, but with a man or a woman? And you could’ve been that man…
If you hadn’t run away like a frightened child.
Yet another regret I’d have to live with.