8. Walt
WALT
The sounds outside my window at night normally help me fall asleep.
Tires screeching, horns honking, even police cars with their sirens screaming serve as a buffer to the silence in my apartment.
But tonight, there isn’t a sound in the world that could drown out the thoughts running through my mind.
I’ve counted every slat of paneling in the room. I’ve listed all fifty states backward and forward. I even turned on the radio hoping some music would make me think about something, anything, else.
It didn’t.
All I can think about is him.
How I want him here. How I can’t have him here. How I don’t do this. How I can’t do this.
I slam my fist onto the mattress, my body and mind at war like a shaken bottle of oil and vinegar.
I had a feeling about him. Tonight, he confirmed it.
He is attracted to men, and I am attracted to him.
The warmth is still coursing through my veins from when his hand was on mine, when mine was on his. When I thought he might lean in and kiss me.
Goddammit…I wanted him to.
I’ve never even kissed a man before, but in that moment, I knew it was the only thing I wanted.
The way I wanted my lips pressed against his should be illegal in all fifty states.
It might as well be illegal the way men kissing one another, or women kissing one another, are looked at most of the time, which is why it’s a risk.
I don’t do risks. I can’t do risks.
But Johnny does. He’s taken risks to live his life.
He’s suffered the consequences of those risks.
Even tonight, mentioning a place like This Is It to the wrong person could be enough for someone to fire him on the spot.
But that’s the last thing I wanted to do tonight.
I wanted to fucking kiss him. I wanted to pull him into my arms when he told me what happened.
I wanted to drive to Alabama and beat the shit out of whoever touched him.
I drop my arm across my forehead. What am I even thinking?
Did he want to kiss me? Is he attracted to me?!
My stomach churns like I drank a glass of spoiled milk. How do I act normal around him tomorrow?
My jaw tightens. I can let it go. Forget about it. If things get too hard, I’ll tell him this arrangement isn’t working out.
“I can find another bartender,” I mumble to the empty apartment.
But the thrumming behind my ribcage says otherwise. He is the reason we have repeat customers. His smile. His personality. The effortless way he pours a drink and listens to a story.
He’s the reason I keep having a bar full of people.
He’s the reason I can pour a beer correctly.
He’s the reason I’m hard as hell lying in bed and can’t sleep.
I palm my cock thinking about the way his hand felt in mine. What would it feel like wrapped around me now? I slowly stroke myself, imagining his hand moving up and down. I want to taste him. I want him to taste me.
I stroke faster, picturing his lips around me, wanting his tongue to lick every inch, every vein, until I see stars. The ache to feel his rugged hand graze across my stomach causes my back to arch, hoping it would find him instead of an empty space.
I’ve done this countless times, fisted my dick, imagining it was someone else. But there was never a face to the men in my dreams. Not until Johnny.
My lips ache to kiss him—the one who showed me who he truly was. Brave and kind and sexy as hell and…oh fuck! My hips thrust as I finish in my hand, my groan rumbling through me. I’m done for.
As the euphoria fades away, the sweat on my palms turns cold and clammy.
What I imagined can never happen. I stumble out of bed to clean myself up and grab a glass of water.
How do I want something this much despite never having tried it?
How could someone know that a pecan kringle is their favorite dessert without ever having tasted one?
But just like a baked good, I’ve seen it—and it looks and smells fucking delicious. And the moment that man walked into my bar, I felt like I’d been starved to death my entire life, and now I don’t have any appetite for anything else but him.
I gently set the glass down, leaning against the kitchen sink. Could I be that open with him too? Could I be brave enough to have what I want?
A chill runs up my spine as thoughts of how all of this could go bad stifle every piece of excitement. Not even the glass of water can help me swallow the doubt lodged in my throat.
No. I shake my head as I stomp back down the hall and flop into bed. I pull the covers up tight to my chest. I can’t do this. As much as I want it…I don’t have his courage. I’m weak. Pathetic. A disappointment. I grit my teeth as the cold reality sets in of how to make all this go away.
Let him work his shift tomorrow, then let him go.