15. Hayworth
FIFTEEN
HAYWORTH
“I hate to admit it, but that was a lot more fun than I thought,” he says with the biggest smile and I can’t help but mimic him.
“I told you, my way is better,” I tell him as I come to a stop a few blocks away from his home and the edge of the Maplewood downtown.
“And what is your way exactly? Having fake domestics in the middle of the most boring event ever?”
He tears off a piece of the pizza and offers it to me before he tears one for himself. In my rush to take it out of the oven and find some way to transport it I didn’t get to cut it up, probably for the best as that would have made carrying it out even more complicated.
“Yeah. Anything that can disrupt this schmoopy, sickly, sweet holiday that makes everyone so…fake.”
Felix stares at me for a moment and I can’t quite tell if it’s with disgust or intrigue.
“What happened to you?” he asks eventually with kind eyes and a full mouth and I feel the sudden urge to wipe the tomato sauce off his face and kiss him like they do in the movies.
But I don’t.
This…this isn’t real. And even if it was, it’s not me.
“I don’t know what on earth you mean,” I answer and lean back in my seat.
“Oh please,” he snorts, “For someone to hate love so much it makes them physically sick, something definitely happened to you,” he says, chewing a new piece of pizza.
“It’s nice, huh?” I point at the pizza in his lap and smirk.
“A bit doughy but not too much to make it inedible. Don’t tell anyone but I might try this yeast-free dough at home.”
I zip my mouth with a smile and he narrows his eyes.
“My lips are sealed,” I add and rezip my lips.
“So you’re not going to tell me, huh?”
“Tell you what?”
“Who hurt you,” he says.
A sigh comes out before I can control it. “It’s…a long story,” I say after a few moments or minutes of cheese and silence.
“I’ve still got time before my curfew.” He checks his empty wrist as if checking a watch and I shake my head with a chuckle.
“What’s yours?” I reach out for another slice if for no other reason than to keep my hands and mouth busy.
“My what?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Californian single dad of two settling in the middle of Vermont. Sounds like there’s a story there.”
He sighs the same way I did a moment ago and I stuff my mouth before I take the question back.
“Fine. My husband, Mark, he was my high school sweetheart. We went through everything together. Failures, successes, miscarriages, funerals, the lot. He was my rock through everything and I for him. He was the best guy there was. He cared about others. He cared for equality. He was empathetic. He was the dream guy. And he was mine.”
He turns to me and takes a deep breath before he licks his lips and stares back forward, out the windshield.
“But I never felt…right. You know? I was never comfortable in my own skin. I didn’t know what it was until I got pregnant and my hormones made my dysphoria even worse. But then I gave birth to Elsa and I got too busy being a parent to figure out what I wanted to do about me. Then, when I got pregnant with Arya I had realized what was wrong with me and I needed things to change.”
He presses his lips together and his gaze stays pinned on my lips, unwavering, unmoving.
“Elsa and Arya, huh? Anything to do with Frozen and Game of Thrones ?”
He laughs, breaking the quiet in the car and filling it with the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “You can tell the periods of my life by how I’ve named them. Elsa came out when I was still in denial and so happy being a new parent but knew something was missing and Arya when I was angry and out for blood.”
I cock my head and purse my lips to the side.
“That’s when I came out to Mark. My third trimester. I couldn’t keep it in anymore so I told him. By that point I knew he was an accepting, kind man who stood up for the little guy so there was no harm, right? He’d accept me and love me like he did before, right?”
“He didn’t?” I ask with a pang in my chest, bracing for more pain.
“Kind of. He wasn’t jumping for joy, but he said the right things, though I could tell there was something off. We didn’t talk about it again for months after Arya was born. I was angry because he ignored it and I was starting to get antsy. I wanted to start my transition as soon as I was done breastfeeding so I came out with it.
“Anyway, long story short, he turned into a condescending, vile man. He started talking about a woman’s position in marriage, about a man’s rights. He started listening to all those nasty misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic podcasts and parroting their bullshit as if he had discovered the truth of the universe.”
“Wow,” I say and reach for his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
He glances down at my hand and I start to pull back when he squeezes it instead.
“Thanks,” he says. “It took me a long time to leave him but I did. I just couldn’t reconcile the Mark I married to the Mark he became post-my coming out. It was like dealing with two different people. I was hoping it was just a phase he’d come out of. I thought maybe he needed to get this shit out of his system to realize he still loves me, but it only got worse and I was done. I left with the girls and filed for divorce. Then he started a nasty custody battle, and what’s worse, when he got the girls he’d feed them misogynistic crap, talk to them about their place, order them around like his little slaves, punish them harshly. I was disgusted. I won sole custody and I thought we’d start fresh.”
“And that’s when you came here?”
He shook his head and relaxed his hold on my hand. “No. We moved to Sacramento. And a few months ago he broke in and tried to take them. He almost succeeded.”
“Jesus! What a dickhead.”
“He truly is. He gave Elsa nightmares for months. It’s only since we got here she’s started to sleep at night. Thank God Arya is still young enough for some things to not faze her.”
“That’s good.” I give his hand another squeeze and withdraw it from his lap where it’s been for far too long for comfort. “What happened to him?”
“He served some time, lost his home and he’s back living with his parents. He tried to follow us so now he’s on house arrest.”
“Fuck. That’s a lot! I’m so sorry.” And only more proof love is a fucking monster. If it wasn’t, Felix wouldn’t have gone through literal hell from the person who had promised to love him through thick and thin.
“Yup. Thanks. It’s a lot but all I care about is the girls being okay. I just want them to have a home they feel safe in.”
“I understand that. My mom raised me all on her own and she sacrificed everything for me.” He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. As if he was too lost in the memories of his past.
“And? Do you still have a good relationship?”
“We do,” I say and think back to last week and our fight. “Although, I wish she had done things for herself, you know. I wish she hadn’t given her all for me.”
“Why do you say that?”
I shrug and look away from his penetrating gaze that has a way of getting under my skin.
“I was happy, don’t get me wrong. Spoiled even?—”
“I can see that,” he chuckles.
“But I always felt like she was holding back. It’s only now I realize maybe she denied herself happiness because she thought it would affect me.”
Felix presses his lip together and nods slowly. I can imagine he can relate to what I’m saying but he doesn’t elaborate. It’s probably still a bit raw for him. Which leaves me with one thing to do.
“His name was Jack,” I say.
Felix frowns and turns to me. “Jack? Are you talking about yourself in the third person?”
“No. Different Jack. We…we met in college and hit it off straight away. We spent way too much time together. Like a disgusting amount of time.”
“Doing what?” He raises an eyebrow with a cheeky smile.
“Being schmoopy, sickly sweet.”
“Really?” He grimaces.
“Yup. We’d spend hours kissing, eating, playing video games, blowing each other?—”
“There you go!” he says but bites his tongue and I can’t help but laugh.
“I didn’t say we were saints. But we were together. An item. I thought I’d found the one.”
“I’m guessing that wasn’t the case?”
“A year after graduation I came home a little early.”
“Oh god! No!” He puts his hand on his mouth and my chest flutters a bit.
It’s cute how invested he is in my story.
“Yeah. Couldn’t get more stereotypical than that. He was having a threesome.”
“Oh my God!”
“That’s what he said.” I chuckle. Felix doesn’t.
“What did he say?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, really. He just acted as if I was inconveniencing his good time. He acted as if I knew we were open and when I challenged him he gave me the old ‘we’re gay, of course we’re open’ excuse.”
“What a douche. I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
“Needless to say I moved out the same day. I tried to move on. I tried to get over what a fool I’d been. A few months later, I met Ben. But he was cut from the same cloth. Thankfully it only took six months to figure him out, if that’s any sort of consolation.”
“Jeez, talk about bad luck.”
“So that’s why I stopped dating. I stopped relationships and promises of love and bullshit. It’s not worth it.”
His hand slides up to my knee and even though it only stays there a second or two I can feel the ghost of his touch long after it’s gone.
“You poor thing. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”
“Me too,” I say.
He sits back on his seat and we breathe in unison for a moment, two moments, three, when he turns around and shakes his head.
“You know what? Jack was never going to work,” he announces as if it’s a revelation.
“Oh yeah?” I ask. “And why is that?”
“Hello! You share the same first name? That’s just…no, it wouldn’t do. And Ben? He was destined to fail.”
“Really?”
“Of course. He was a rebound. I think you got it all wrong. I think you gave up too soon. I think your guy is still out there somewhere.”
I huff. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“Does that mean your guy is out there too?” I ask and raise my eyebrow.
He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m too lazy to go find him.”
“Same.” I nod.
Felix laughs. “We’re pathetic.”
“I don’t know. I’d rather be pathetic than a cheater. Or…a piece of toxic trash.”
He nods, gazing into my eyes and I hold his gaze as if it’s the most precious thing in the whole wide world. Two broken and broken-hearted people who share more than I care to admit and who might, in another lifetime, be perfect for each other.
But I’m not willing to risk it. Not again. Not a third time. We all know third time is the fucker of all fuckers. I don’t think my fragile heart could take another betrayal.
“We…we should get going.” I clear my throat and turn the engine back on.
Felix turns to face the front again, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah. I need the girls to see you drop me off after all, right?”
“Right.” I take the short drive to Felix’s home trying to cast away any thoughts of love and soulmates and any such crap and focus instead on the job.
I open the door for him and walk him to the front door.
“They’re watching,” I mumble.
“I knew they would,” he says.
We reach his door and there’s a muffled shriek that comes from their direction and I furrow my brows in confusion.
“They probably think you’re going to kiss me good night,” he says with a dismissive shake of his head.
“Do they now?”
“Ignore them.”
“I thought the point was to put on a show for them.”
Felix frowns. “You make it sound dirtier than it’s meant to be.”
“I did no such thing.”
“If you say so.”
I glance their way and they giggle. Cheyenne is watching too but she’s far more restrained in her reaction. Probably because she knows her uncle’s reputation.
“They’re still watching.”
“Yeah.”
“Should I give them a show?”
Felix licks his lips and shrugs. “If you must.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle but lean forward to the soundtrack of Felix’s daughters’ squealing. But I block all that out as soon as his lips touch mine and I taste the faintest hint of cherry.
My entire body seizes and nothing I do can bring me down to the safety of the ground.
He brings a hand up to my face and my skin lights up under his touch as if on fire. A fire that burns through me like lava. A volcanic explosion that awakens every part of me. And every part of me wants more of him.
I take a step forward, deepening the kiss and with that the strain in my pants becomes unbearable. I wedge my tongue between his lips, asking for permission and wait as if my life depends on it.
When he finally lets me in I could come undone just from being enveloped in him. But before I can, his hand slides down to my chest and pushes me back.
Even though the kiss only lasts a few seconds, I’m breathless. And so is he.
“That was…” I start.
“It was,” he agrees, and continues to stare at me, loosely grabbing onto a flap of his coat and fiddling with it.
“What?” I ask when he still doesn’t say anything after what feels like a century.
He glances toward the window and then turns his back to it slightly. “Was…was the offer—” he clears his throat. “The offer to…”
“Hook up?”
He nods. “Is that still on the table?”
I lick my lips and taste that faint cherry residue on me and it brings back all the flurry and heat from our kiss.
“Always,” I say.
“Give me half an hour to get them in bed and send me your address.”
My cock twitches and I’m not sure it’s the bossiness or the neediness in his voice but I do know I want his lips on mine all night long.