11. Gabe
11
GABE
I t had been a weird couple of weeks.
Brooklyn and I didn’t manage to go out and get an air mattress for almost fourteen days. We’d meant to go the day after we got married—which was still a weird thing to say—but I’d gotten a work call, and Brooklyn got stuck in a meeting with Jeff that ran long.
Sunday, we were dragged to an intramural kickball tournament with some LGBTQ group on Chatham University’s campus that Brooklyn had apparently signed up for and promptly forgotten about. Then I had to fly out for work and didn’t get back until Thursday night.
That weekend, Human Nature was doing a camping trip that Brooklyn had promised to staff and that I got drafted into attending as well. It was cute, seeing how great Brooklyn was with the kids, and sleeping in a sleeping bag on the ground wasn’t any less comfortable than the couch, so I didn’t mind. Plus, it was good fodder for the daily pictures we had to text to Tanner.
It seemed like things just kept getting in the way, so it wasn’t until this morning, Saturday, that we’d finally gotten around to dragging our asses out to the store, pushing our giant shopping cart around the cavernous space like any other normal, married couple. Though there was considerably less bickering than there would have been with my parents, at least.
In fact, these two weeks had been almost suspiciously easy. I knew that what Brooklyn and I were doing wasn’t really a real marriage. But even with all the traveling I’d been doing for work, this was still the most time I’d spent in someone’s company since I’d graduated high school, and I kept waiting for us to fight about something.
Wasn’t that how relationships worked? Granted, my parents weren’t the greatest example, but you always saw couples fighting on TV or in movies. Maybe it was just because Brooklyn and I were more like friends. But the more I got to know him, the more I thought we’d probably be okay even if we were more than friends.
Not that I was looking for that. Sure, I wouldn’t have minded being friends with benefits, but I definitely wasn’t in the market for a relationship. Brooklyn was hot—I was long past the point where I could lie about that to myself—but this whole thing wasn’t real, and neither of us wanted it to be.
Still, it did make for a pretty good story. Aiden had cracked up when I’d told him. I smiled, thinking back to the phone call I’d made after checking with Brooklyn that it was okay to let Aiden know.
“You’re what ?” Aiden had asked.
“Married,” I’d repeated.
Just hearing the word had sent Aiden off into another giggle fit and I waited, semi-annoyed, until he stopped. I knew it was a little funny, but was the idea of me being married really that unbelievable?
“You done?” I asked when I could finally get a word in.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…You. Got. Married.” Aiden laughed again. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, it’s just that you’re the one always saying how you’ll never end up like Mom and Dad, always telling me I’m a sap for believing in happy endings and shit, and then you go and get married after knowing someone for like, a week! Even less time than Mom and Dad knew each other.”
“Yeah, but it’s different,” I protested.
“Well, duh. Brooklyn’s a guy.”
“I meant that it’s different because Brooklyn and I are walking into this with our eyes open, and doing it for an entirely different reason. Neither one of us is hoping this turns into something real. But yes, also, Brooklyn is a guy.”
“But you are hooking up with him, aren’t you?” Aiden pressed.
“Actually, we’re not.”
“But isn’t he the guy that you brought back to your hotel room that night? The one who I’ve been texting and asking you about and getting zero response or further information on?”
“Yeah, about that. You ever think that maybe I don’t want to share every detail of my love life with someone I’m related to?”
“You ever think that I might be a tiny bit curious when my previously-assumed-straight brother announces he brought a guy home with him and then hangs up before I get to ask any follow-up questions?” Aiden retorted.
“Touché.”
“So give me something. Anything. Just a crumb of detail. Why aren’t you hooking up with him? Did you not like it?”
I paused, trying to figure out how to answer that, and how much detail to go into. On the one hand, Aiden was my brother, so, ew . But on the other hand, I was dying to talk to somebody about what had happened, and with Mark still on his month-long trek through the Andes with Jesse, there wasn’t really another option.
“No, I liked it.” I sighed. “We just, I don’t know, it was awkward. You called, so we stopped. And when Brooklyn overheard me talking to you, he assumed that I was talking about him and not Paolo. So he got kind of freaked out and left. And then—”
“And then you got married.”
I barked a laugh. “Yeah. That’s about it. We talked about it a little, but I guess the moment had passed. I’d do it again, if he were interested, but I don’t know. It seems like he changed his mind.”
“Maybe he’s just afraid you’ll change yours.”
“But that doesn’t even make sense,” I exploded, surprising myself. I guess I had more pent-up frustration about the situation than I’d realized. “We both know we don’t want anything serious. So why the hell is he holding back?”
“I don’t know, dude. Have you tried, you know, asking him ? I hear actually talking to the person you like can work wonders.”
“I don’t like him,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
“Sure. Right. I completely believe you.”
“Not like that . Yes, I like him as a friend and yes, I would fucking love to actually hook up with him again and not get stopped in the middle this time, but I don’t like him like him.”
“Whatever you say.” Aiden’s voice was drier than the desert. “That’s exactly the kind of reaction someone who doesn’t like his husband would have.”
“Aiden—”
“Fine, I’m dropping it. No more judgments from me, I promise. I do think you might want to talk to him, though. Just bring it up and air things out. What’s the worst that can happen? He divorces you?”
“I don’t want to talk to him, though. Not about that. So awkward.”
“Well, the only other solution I can think of is just getting naked and throwing yourself at him, but unless you consider that less awkward…”
I’d hung up feeling unsettled.
Aiden’s comments had hit way too close to home. That first night in Brooklyn’s apartment, wasn’t that more or less what I’d done? I wasn’t sure exactly what Brooklyn could see when I’d stood up from the couch, but I was pretty sure his door was still open, and I’d been struck by the sudden urge to see what happened if I took my shirt off.
I’d thought he’d make some crack about it, tell me to go into the bathroom or ask if I was planning on sleeping naked. Some sort of joke to ease the tension. But the longer I’d stood there, the quieter the apartment became. My heartbeat had sped up, and by the time I stepped out of my pants, I was amazed Brooklyn couldn’t hear it pounding in my chest.
It had been so quiet, so still, that I wasn’t even sure he was watching after all. Maybe he’d gone to bed. Maybe he had closed the door and I’d missed it. Maybe I was stripping for an audience of zero.
So I turned around. And saw Brooklyn staring at me, his eyes wide and his pupils so dilated you almost couldn’t see the vivid hazel of his irises. He’d been holding his cock.
He’d looked as turned on as I felt. Full of excitement, and desire. Fuck, it had been hot, seeing how much I turned Brooklyn on. It made me want to walk over and kiss the guy again. Push him into his room and stumble backwards until we hit the bed. Let him roll on top of me and pick up right where we’d left off.
Instead, he’d slammed the door in my face. Signals didn’t get much clearer than that.
He’d told me he didn’t want to hook up. For whatever reason, he no longer wanted to go down that path. But then why had he been standing there, practically jerking off in front of me?
And what the fuck was I going to do about it?
I watched as Brooklyn pulled our cart to a stop in front of a shelf full of candles. His brow furrowed as he bent to inspect them, then plucked an amber-colored one off the shelf. He pulled the jar’s lid off easily, and I wondered, not for the first time this week, what it would be like to feel his hands on me again, working over my body with the same sureness and strength. The same confidence he’d had that night in my room at the Wisteria.
It felt like a dream sometimes, though it had only been three weeks ago. I found myself wondering if it had really happened, or if I’d just imagined it. We never talked about it. It sat unacknowledged, just like the night two weeks ago when I’d seen him in the doorway to his room, watching me. I knew both of those nights weren’t just my imagination, but the sense of something unfinished, unconsummated , lent a tinge of unreality to the memories.
Brooklyn brought the candle to his nose and inhaled deeply, then turned to me and held it out. “Does this one smell good?”
I had to stifle my first instinct, which was to grab the jar, because that would have meant grabbing Brooklyn’s hand, and while I obviously wanted to do that, I wasn’t sure he wanted me to do that, so I stood frozen for a second, going around and around in circles in my head before giving up and just sticking my nose in it.
“It smells like—” I stopped myself. No wonder Brooklyn liked the scent. It smelled like him, like smoky wood and sweet citrus. But I couldn’t say that. Couldn’t confess that I’d memorized what he smelled like, and that I found myself daydreaming about it all the time. “Like happiness,” I finished lamely, hoping he didn’t notice my big-ass pause.
He smiled. “I shouldn’t get it, though. You can’t eat candles.”
He started to put it back on the shelf and this time, I did reach out, stretching across the cart to stop him.
“Get it. It’ll make the apartment smell nice. I’ll pay for it.”
“You have to stop paying for things for me,” Brooklyn grumbled. “Besides, you already make the apartment smell nice. With your cooking, I mean.”
He blushed. He fucking blushed. It made me feel triumphant—and even more frustrated. It wasn’t fair for him to walk around, being so annoyingly hot, clearly wanting me but refusing to do anything about it, and then to fucking blush in a way that tied my stomach in knots.
“Can’t a guy buy things for his husband, sugarplum?” I’d taken to calling him pet names whenever I felt uncomfortable. It seemed to even the playing field a bit.
He rolled his eyes. Even that was hot. And when he began to push the cart again, I watched his legs striding confidently through the store and wished I could feel them wrapped around me. Dammit, I had it bad.
“Found them!” Brooklyn called, his voice jubilant as he turned a corner. There was a display of air mattresses in the center of the aisle. He smiled at me as he fist-pumped the air, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back.
“I think there’s only one reasonable option here,” I said after a moment of studying our choices.
“You’re going to say the double-height, king-sized mattress with the goose-down top, aren’t you?”
“God no. I’m not totally unreasonable.” I cracked a smile. “I was going to say the queen-sized one.”
“Glad to know that’s what you consider reasonable.” Brooklyn loaded it into the cart and looked back at me. “Ready?”
“Wait,” I said as he started to turn away.
“What?”
“Smile!” I held my phone up. “We need to send Tanner our picture. Might as well document this momentous occasion while we’re at it.”
“I still think it’s weird that we’re sending him daily pictures.” Brooklyn frowned. “What do you think he’s even doing with them?”
“I mean…how honest do you want me to be?”
“If you say jacking off—”
“You asked!”
“God.” Brooklyn affected a shiver. “Well, it’s either that, or wallpapering his bedroom with them and planning to murder us. I guess someone jizzing on a picture of my face doesn’t seem so bad in comparison.”
“Aw, babe, you always find a way to look on the bright side.”
I walked around the cart and made him hold the box up while I snapped a picture of the two of us and sent it off to Tanner. On a whim, I sent it to Aiden, too, captioning it, ‘Me and bae buying an air mattress for our apartment. You know, in case we break his bed somehow .’
Aiden responded right away.
AIDEN: Gross, why is your fake relationship so much cuter than any real one I’ve ever been in?
AIDEN: Also does this mean you two are finally fucking?
I sighed and texted back, angling my phone away so Brooklyn couldn’t see.
GABE: Ew, now who’s being gross? No
GABE: But I think I might actually finally talk to him about it
AIDEN: Omg tell me where to send your medal of honor
GABE: Fuck you
AIDEN: I’m serious you’re a real hero. They should make a movie about your bravery
AIDEN: I can star in it
There was a slight pause as he typed out a longer message.
AIDEN: Hey but when you stop being mad at me, can you send me more pics of you and your HUSBAND being fucking adorable?
I frowned.
GABE: Why?
AIDEN: Because I had another shitty audition yesterday and I’m drunk and just send me the goddamn pictures, you monster
My frown deepened.
GABE: It’s like 10 in the morning where you are. You’re drunk already?
AIDEN: Brunch drunk. Please, I’m still respectable. Anyway
AIDEN: PICTURES
AIDEN: NOW
GABE: Ugh, fine. Creeper
“Who are you texting over there?” Brooklyn asked, giving me a quizzical look. We’d made it to the registers, and he was pushing the cart into place.
“Just Aiden. He’s being weird. As per usual.”
“I’m still jealous you have a brother.” Brooklyn’s eyes looked a little wistful.
“I’m pretty sure he has a crush on you, so if you want him…”
Brooklyn snorted. “I’ve already got one Hastings brother in my life, I’m not sure I need two.”
“Not to brag or anything, but I think you got the better one.” I buffed my fingernails on my shirt.
“Yeah, I got Evelyn.”
I groaned. “I should have fucking known that would come up again.”
“Yeah, you really should have.” Brooklyn cackled. “You really think I was gonna let a middle name like that go? It’s too priceless.”
“It’s a family name, man. You think I would have picked that? You should have heard the shit I used to get for it in middle school.”
“Poor thing. I bet it scarred you for life.”
“It did. I’m very scarred. You should probably be nicer to me.”
“I am being nice to you. I’m letting you buy me a candle.”
“Huh. I probably should have thought harder before I made that offer.”
“Too late now.” Brooklyn grinned broadly. “Can’t take it back. Now let’s get this stuff and get out of here before we turn into an old married couple.”
“Getting sick of me already, huh?”
“Never.” He smiled.
And I knew he was joking. I knew that neither of us was looking for something more, something real. But still.
Never.
I liked the sound of that.