Chapter 5
Chapter Five
CESAR
“Nice undies.”
“Snack food of the Gods.” I gestured to the Pop Tarts on my boxers.
“Only a boy whose mother doesn’t cook would think so.” Kieran laughed.
It was true, Mami didn’t cook much. The exception was on Christmas Eve and Peruvian Independence Day in July. She worked too many long hours, for one thing, and she also didn’t like cooking. We got by on quick meals and I’d hardly had my growth stunted from it.
“That’s why I spend so much time at your parents’ place.” I shrugged.
“You use me for food.” Kieran gave a mock sigh. “Even now.” He gestured toward the pizza in his hands.
“Just get in here.” I grinned. When I’d hobbled up my apartment stairs, I’d managed to strip my clothes and change, but hadn’t shaved or showered since the gym. Suddenly, I worried I might smell a little.
Kieran looked like he was freshly showered. His brown hair wet, smelling clean with a hint of lavender. He smiled, as usual. He’d always been a warm and likeable person, quick to smile. Unlike his best friend.
I swallowed. “Thanks for coming over.”
“No big deal. Extra sausage and pepperoni on your half, and extra cheese on mine.” Kieran put the pizza box on my coffee table. During the week, I trained hard and ate mostly lean proteins, but on the weekend I liked one cheat meal.
He gave me a big hug. “I have so much to tell you about that bus.”
I leaned into the hug. I couldn’t help myself. Kieran was just being Kieran, easy and affectionate. All his touches meant nothing else. Still, I loved when he touched me. When I would sleepover at his house as a young teen, I lived for those moments. Especially if we ended up talking all night and then falling asleep in the same bed. Or when our high school soccer team won a game and we’d jump in the air together, arms tightly holding each other in victory. Any excuse to touch him or be touched.
“Pizza time!” Kieran exclaimed, releasing me, as he practically bounced with enthusiasm. He licked his lips in anticipation of the greasy carbs.
“You love anything with cheese.”
“True. If I wasn’t from South Jersey, I might be French.” Kieran chuckled. “I even like the smelly cheeses.”
“No girls will kiss you if you eat smelly cheese,” I replied. God, why was I bringing up Kieran’s love life? He hadn’t dated a girl in a while, and the last thing I wanted to think about was who his next love interest might be. “I’ll grab some napkins and soda.” I fought off the pang of sadness. I needed to refocus on something else. I started for my kitchen, when a friendly hand on my bicep stopped me.
“I’ll go. You’re not moving so well.”
“It’s just a sprain.”
“And let’s keep it that way. You don’t want to cancel your next fight.” He helped me to the couch, looping an arm around my middle and guiding me to the sofa. Once I sat, he gave my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Stay put.”
Kieran was the best guy I knew, with the most loyal heart. He’d worked, driven out to meet some crazy book bus for me, and had given up his Saturday night to bring me pizza.
“You need some pillows on the couch. Some pictures above the mantle.” Kieran surveyed the room. “When are you going to decorate?”
“Someday.” I shrugged indifferently. “Tell me about Hook’s Traveling Book Nook .”
“If I had a place this big, I’d do it up. And you need some plants. I could bring some over?”
“And have to face you when I kill them? No thanks. And right now, there’s a bus date to think about.”
“The bus had style, unlike this sterile place.” Kieran gave it one more disapproving look. “What gave you the idea, anyhow? For the book bus?”
“I loved their advertisement. Elias reads a lot, so I thought what a cool gift to give him for the Secret Santa. First, I’ll give him some books, but inside one will be a special certificate for a date on the bus.”
“It’s a good plan.” Kieran sat down on the couch beside me.
“Thanks. “I cleared my throat, trying to ignore his leg pressed close to mine.
“What happens after he gets the books on Christmas Eve?”
“Then I’ll do the big reveal that I’m his Santa and we’ll spend Christmas Day there. I mean, I arranged it for after the Christmas morning stuff at your house, so it should all go pretty smoothly. You agree, right?” I scooped up a piece of pizza. “Or don’t you think Elias will want to go there? Or… not with me once he learns I’m his Secret Santa?”
“What? Don’t be stupid.”
“He might feel manipulated more than interested.”
“You’re not tying his hands, blindfolding him, and having your way with him. It’s a fun way to let him know you’d like a date. Stop overthinking things like you do,” Kieran ordered.
“Yeah, okay.” I chewed my pizza slice. I tried not to imagine blindfolding Kieran and “having my way.”
“He’ll like the bus.”
“Think I got a shot? I’m not very sophisticated and Elias?—”
“He would be lucky to date you.” Kieran put his plate down.
“Hope so. I need to date. Toys only get me so far.”
“Toys?” Kieran perked up and looked around. “What kind and where are they?”
“You’re such a child.”
“Me? You’re in Pop Tart boxers.”
First imagining a blindfold and now confessing about my toy drawer? My brain was on track with the holiday scheme, but my heart… it wasn’t listening at all.
Luckily, Kieran was oblivious and babbled on, saying, “I liked the women who ran it, Cybil and Jane. They were out there, man, but like in a good way. I can’t explain. And they had so many books. They are going to work on the basket for Elias. Cybil, she thinks she has this gift to know what people wanna read.” An odd look passed over his face. “Maybe she does.”
“I can’t wait to see it for myself.”
“Must be awesome to turn a passion for reading into a full-time gig,” Kieran mused. “Lots of people say they will do that sort of shit and don’t.” He grinned at me. “But you did it, too, with fighting.”
“It’s not a passion. It’s my killer instinct.” I only had to pretend the kicks were aimed at my father, who left us long ago, to make my punches count. No divorce, he just went back to Peru. My father couldn’t deal with his life or us. He was stressed all the time. At least, that’s what I remembered most about those days before he left.
He kept in touch at first, sending cards, and calling on my birthday. But soon, he communicated less and less. I wish I could forget as easily. I wasn’t the happy-go-lucky type before he left, but afterwards I became downright gloomy. Mainly because I remembered too much. My father holding my hand, sneaking me into the racetrack while he bet on the horses, showing me how to fly a kite along the shore, our feet sinking into the sand as we watched the kite stretch toward the sky. On weekends, we’d watch sports, with him cheering loudly for his teams, encouraging me to shout too. Wrestled with me playfully when his favorite team won. Papi had been there for me. Until he wasn’t. Missing him was messy; it was easier to fall into anger. Because as much as I loved him, there were days I overheard the fighting in hushed whispers. He regretted Mami working at her job. Regretted coming to this country. He would stand over her, arms crossed, as Mami wouldn’t say a word.
Not that I’m super religious, but whenever Mami dragged me to confession half my time involved my feelings of pain over my father. The other half of my confession was about my lust for guys. One guy in particular. The one I couldn’t ever have.
Kieran was happy-go-lucky, most of the time, with an easy smile that conveyed his optimism for the world. He usually managed to cheer me up with that smile. I wished I could be carefree for him, and not a snappy bastard who found the world suspect.
“Are you sure my brother is worth all this plotting?” Kieran rested his foot against my thigh. “And by the way, for all the favors I’ve done for you, I’m going to eat the last slice. Which, we both know you always take.”
“Hey, I need the pounds. Fighters have lots of weigh-ins. I’m not looking soft or anything, right?”
“You pump enough iron for ten men,” Kieran replied, his eyes dropping to my chest and then resting where my hand pressed on my taut stomach. Butterflies fluttered where his gaze skimmed. Stop it . Kieran liked to touch and cuddle. So what? He was just affectionate. It meant nothing. “I should copy your workout and impress the girls,” he added.
“Yeah.” I nodded, my heart sinking a little. But I needed to hear it. Kieran was gorgeous and sweet. Some woman would come along someday and Kieran would fall madly in love with her.
“I hope Elias will be impressed.” I flexed my bicep jokingly. My body I can put through grueling workouts, maintain a routine with force to bend to my will. But my heart? It’s a wilderness of need. My secret emotions constantly run away from me, refusing to not worry or want things it can’t have. “Or will Elias like this move better?” I joked, making my pecs dance.
“He’s not blind,” Kieran replied, his words kind, but his tone more abrupt. “Wanna watch ESPN?”
“What’s on?”
“Does it matter?”
“Nope.”
I turned on the television. Kieran and I were pretty sports addicted. Once, we’d stayed up all night arguing about the better team and cricket. And neither of us know shit about cricket. We just liked pushing each other around. We ended up trying to play cricket in my living room, but it turned into competitive wrestling instead. Sports had always been our language, our comfort, and we could watch for hours. I think Kieran loved the brashness of it all, the bold move players might make, the sudden turn of events. Whereas I liked sports for the opposite reason. When everything else got out of control, sports always had beginnings and endings.
Being with Kieran was my favorite part of any day. And that was why my most important rule of all formed: Don’t ever ruin us. Don’t let there be an ending.
I couldn’t risk that. Our friendship was too important. Hurting Kieran in any way was hurting myself. If anybody else ever hurt him, I’d tear them apart with my bare hands. And then I’d go home and secretly bawl my eyes out. Yeah, I’m fucked up for my best friend. Hiding behind a sour exterior or behind my muscles is easier than opening up. Just the thought of losing Kieran… I don’t trust myself to give in to my feelings. If it hurt to not have him the way I wanted, not be able to pull him onto my lap, snuggle him, kiss his smiling lips—I had to accept that. I could take the rejection, but I couldn’t survive the end of our friendship. It was only fair that I’d tear myself apart before letting something awkward and unasked come between us. But… I wanted him. So fucking much. I thought it would lessen, but it only got worse. If I let myself, I’d break down and plead with him to fuck me. But I won’t.
“Aw, look at that.” Kieran pointed to the animals in a commercial for a shelter.
“Forget decorating this place, I should get one of those.”
“Which one?”
“Any of them.” I sighed.
Kieran smiled. “Yeah, your mom was not into cleaning up after animals.”
“Word. Mami liked our place spotless. She said I made enough of a mess.” I gazed at the final sad eyes of some hound dog next to a regal looking cat. “But I can get one now. I’d clean up without complaint if it meant I could cuddle it and sleep with it—and fuck, that sounded weird. I’ll shut-up now.” I buried my face in my hands.
“No, keep talking.” Kieran laughed. “I like it when you get flustered.”
“Just watch the game. Look, it’s women’s basketball.” I moved suddenly and then winced as pain shot through my ankle.
“I will, if you elevate your leg.” He pulled over a chair for me to rest my foot on.
“I’m fine.”
“Do it.”
Kieran ordering me around was ridiculous… and kinda hot. I grumbled under my breath, acting as if I hated it. But my brain kept wondering if that meant he’d boss me around in bed. Damn it, I have to stop obsessing on Kieran. That was exactly why I needed to date his brother.
“Stop glowering at me and get it up.”
My mouth dropped. “What?”
“Your foot, dummy.” Kieran patted the chair as he rolled his eyes. “Did you take a blow to the head before you hurt the ankle?”
I swallowed.
“You okay?” Kieran’s eyebrows shot up. “Like for real?”
“Yeah, all good.” I obeyed quickly to prove it, putting my injured foot up.
Kieran smiled, like I’d done him the favor. He swept a concerned hand over my ankle and toes.
I felt tears behind my eyes. It was a quick sweet touch. I didn’t expect it to lead anywhere. But his kindness always left me wanting more, even if it was silly of Kieran to mother me. Being a fighter and athlete, getting injuries was part of the job. I’d had dislocated shoulders, hairline fractures, bruises that I couldn’t remember getting and worse. A bad ankle was a joke. Whether or not I healed by the next match, I’d be fighting anyway.
Boys with single hardworking mothers learned early to handle things. Being able to help her had been enough. Worth any pain for the paycheck. And I did like fighting. Outside of the ring, I wouldn’t hurt anybody and tried to be decent, even if I wasn’t particularly nice. If the day passes and I’m not an asshole? That was a good day. Or maybe I was nice, to a very select few. Maybe a part of me, silenced and frustrated, needed to hit and hurt.
When Mami got sicker, and I had to postpone dates or sexy times to be by her side, Joey got impatient with me. He broke it off during her first round of chemo. I was sad, yeah. And angry. Because he was a douchebag. But I had Mami to focus on, so I took on more fights, and every other spare moment I devoted to her recovery. Telling her she was stronger than she thought. That we’d come out the other side and kick cancer’s ass. We’d watch Breaking Bad episodes as the nurses would check her vitals, because Mami had a weird old lady crush on Jesse (not that I didn’t enjoy his screen time too). The last few years, I’d had no life outside my job and the hospitals. I didn’t mind training and fighting. It shifted my mind into neutral gear. I didn’t have to worry about her or being a good enough son, not in the ring. Fighting made me feel in control; being at the hospital made me feel like I was on a wobbly rollercoaster right before the drop. So many things at the hospital infuriated me, and I wanted to clock somebody, defend my mami against any and all pain, not let any of them touch her—even if they were helping her—I wanted to protect her and couldn’t.
Kieran and his family were wonderful to us. Taking turns bringing Mami food. Driving her to church functions or cancer support groups when I had fights. She and Kieran would sit and laugh together. Sometimes, I’d come home and Mami’s gaunt face would be broken into a smile at something Kieran had said, her eyes bright. And suddenly, in that moment, I could finally exhale again.
A bad ankle? That was nothing compared to my heart.
“Hey, I didn’t hurt you by touching your foot, did I?” Kieran’s soft voice jolted me out of my thoughts.
“No.”
“You look a little sad.” He gestured toward my eyes.
“Just… thinking about those animals in the shelter,” I lied quickly. “I might even turn vegetarian ’cause of that commercial.”
Kieran snorted. “Please. You say this every year.”
“I do?”
“Uh-huh. It’s usually more a New Year’s resolution. ’Member how you claimed you weren’t gonna eat anything with a mouth or asshole? But by summer, you were barbecuing.”
I flushed. “Well, it’s hard to give up on meat.”
“When you’re ready, there’s this place Elias told me about in Brooklyn. The Slutty Vegan.”
“Okay, I didn’t say vegan. That’s hardcore.”
“Already wimping out,” Kieran teased.
“The Slutty Vegan? Great fucking name.”
“Isn’t it. Google it sometime.”
“And I’m serious… At least about getting a pet someday. Maybe a cat.”
“Do it.”
We finished off the pizza, watched the game, bickering over the players. Kieran’s head ended up on my shoulder as he fell asleep. No surprise. He often zonked out in front of the television, using some part of my body as his pillow. And I liked when he did that. Leaned on me. Even if that was only Kieran being friendly as he took up more space.
I studied him, mentally comparing Kieran and Elias for a moment. Elias was a leaner, older version. Kieran was shorter and square-shouldered. Elias was built for runways; Kieran for hugs. They both had brown hair, but Kieran’s had lighter strands of honey-gold mixed in. Both had smiling bright blue eyes. Elias had razor-sharp cheekbones and thinner lips. Kieran’s cheeks were softer and his lips plump. Elias was classically good-looking, but Kieran was striking in a unique way with his kissable lips and pretty cornflower blue eyes and so much magnetism that he doesn’t even realize it.
My jaw clenched. I might like the sleepy cuddles from Kieran, but they were dangerous. I went through a mental list of his flaws: He drank cheap alcohol. Barely able to sit still, he needed constant stimulus. He always hiccupped when he laughed too hard. And he disliked spicy food, which was practically a sin. He never learned how to tell people off (and people sucked).
And… oh yeah, Kieran liked girls. List over.
I moved his head carefully and slid away from him. After grabbing a blanket to cover him, I limped to my phone. With a determined breath, I scrolled to Elias’s number and texted him.
See u at the Christmas party?
I watched as three dots appeared.
Yes, excited for it. Will be great to see the family. And you.
I waited for his “and you” to make the butterflies hit my belly. For my heart rate to pick up speed. My palms to go tingly. To become a lovesick fool for the brother who was actually gay and available. I glanced back at Kieran, drooling blissfully on my couch. This was fucked up. I was fucked-up.
I kept telling myself this would be fair to Elias, who I’d be upfront with once I got a day alone with him, and who could accept or refuse a date with me. And it was what I needed, to move forward with my life and accept a line I had to draw to get away from my feelings.
And who knows? Elias and I might build something real. It might not be a deep or passionate feeling, I know Elias doesn’t stir that type of emotion in me. But Elias was a good guy. A beautiful man. My heart didn’t have to fall in love—I could give up on the idea of love. Because where had my heart ever gotten me?
Where had being in love gotten Mami? Love sucked when it was one-sided. Better to build something practical. If Elias did agree to date, my expectations were reasonable. People settle all the time. Right? I might not care for him in that way… yet. But I could with time. I repeated that to myself over and over. It could become real. Even if he wasn’t Kieran.