Chapter 45
Trouble
It’s the morning after the night before, and I feel raw.
I feel like a fine layer of my skin has been rubbed off my body.
I’ve never been with anyone the way we were together last night.
I’ve never understood phrases like “giving yourself to someone,” and I can’t even think the words “making love” without screwing up my face.
It’s never made sense before. Sex has always been a fun physical activity, kind of like a sport that happens to end in an orgasm instead of a touchdown or a homerun, but it’s never been like that.
Slow. Stopping and starting. Talking. Whispering things to each other that are so private and true I can’t even think about them this morning without my cheeks heating.
It's beautiful.
It’s terrible.
The timing couldn’t be worse.
Too many good things are happening at once. The pit in my stomach is heavy and getting heavier by the minute. Mat’s making coffee. I can hear him in the kitchen, and Will is starting to stir beside me.
“What’s wrong?” Mat asks the second he sees my face. He sets the coffee on the bedside table and crawls onto the bed, sitting between Will and me. I try to brush it off, wanting to buy time until they’ve had their first hit of caffeine.
Will sits up, shoving a pillow behind the small of his back, and assesses me. He sees the same thing Mat saw. He doesn’t bother asking the question. He simply waits for the answer.
“So, you know the show? My show. The show you saw last ni—”
Hang on. Back up. Start at the beginning.
I try again. “My whole life, I’ve had two dreams. Two big, crazy dreams.”
“What are they?” asks Mat.
“One is you. And you. It’s a gluttonous, excessive dream, but it’s mine. It has been for a long time. I don’t want one perfect man. I want two. I used to joke that I wanted two chaotic bi guys, and I wanted to wake them the fuck up.”
“We’re not chaotic,” says Mat defensively.
“No, you’re not. You’re better. You’re more than I wanted. More than I knew was possible. More than I let myself dream.”
“So why does your face look like that?” asks Mat. Will places a hand on his leg to settle him and give me a chance to keep talking.
“What’s the other dream, Trouble?” asks Will.
“To be on stage. To dance. To entertain. To transport people. To give them a break from reality and show them something that excites them, inspires them, or makes them scream. To make them feel something, I guess. I’ve always wanted it.
Since I took part in my first dance recital when I was six, I’ve wanted it.
I want to be on stage. I want to be in a show.
A big show. A huge show. I want to travel.
I want to be in a show that tours the whole country, if not the world. ”
Will’s lips are pressed tightly together and his eyes are bigger than usual. Darker and more shadowy too. His hair is tangled and has fallen into his eyes. Mat looks from me to Will and back to me again.
“Has your show been picked up?” Will asks quietly.
“Yeah,” I say, but no sound comes out, leaving me to mouth the word painfully.
“No!” Mat’s head flicks back and forth between us, moving so fast his curls bounce. “Absolutely not. You’re not going.”
My heart squeezes in dread.
“Mattie!” Will says sharply.
“He’s definitely not going! Are you crazy?” Mat all but yells. “We’ve only just found him. Of course, he’s not going.”
Will reaches for Mat with one arm and drags him back toward him, winding his arms tightly around him so he’s leaning bodily against Will’s chest. “Just hear him out, okay. Just hear him out.” Will looks up at me and adds, “Where?”
“J-just the US. I mean, there are four shows in Toronto and two in Montreal, but the rest are all here.”
“How long?”
“Only three months.” Oh shit, that sounds long. “I mean, twelve weeks.”
“Are you seriously telling me you’re going to let him do this?”
“Mattie, Mattie,” croons Will. “Just wait. Let’s hear him out.”
“I-it’s basically twenty cities in that time, and then it’s done, and the show moves back here.”
“Okay.” Will nods slowly and centers himself. “First, congratulations, Trouble. It’s an incredible achievement and so well deserved.” Mat cranes his head back, glaring at Will as if he’s taken leave of his senses. “Second of all, you should definitely, definitely do it.”
“Will!” hisses Mat.
I feel a terrible mix of things. On the one hand, I want their support, but on the other, I don’t want them to want me to go.
I seem to have found myself in no-man’s-land.
Mat doesn’t support me, and Will wants me to go.
The beginning stages of panic start to flutter high up in my chest. My throat starts to sting and I feel like I can’t speak.
Will tightens his grip on Mat, stroking a hand through his hair when he starts to struggle.
“It’s his dream, Mattie, and we love him.
Think about it. There’s no way we’re going to stand in his way.
That’s not how we love. You know that.” Mat falls silent and he drops his gaze to his lap.
There’s a tiny, tiny quiver in his bottom lip.
He presses down with his teeth to stop it.
Will holds out a hand to me. I take it, and he squeezes hard.
“Go do your thang, Hot-ness,” he drawls, breaking out the Louisiana twang just when I need it the most. “Shake yo’ fine ass.
” I start to laugh and sniffle, and so does Mat.
“You go, and we’ll follow. We have savings.
We can come out to see you every other weekend.
We can shop around for good deals on flights, and we can make it work.
The show will be covering your hotels, won’t it? We can crash with you.”
“You’d do that?” My voice squeaks horrendously, but for once, I don’t give a shit. “You’ll come to where I am?”
Will tightens his grip on my hand and yanks me toward him so hard that I topple onto both of them.
Mat holds on to me as if I’m water and he’s trying to stop me from slipping through his fingers.
“Don’t you know anything, Pretty Boy? We’re totally whipped.
Where you go, we’ll go. It’s not even a choice. ”
“But it’s going to be so expensive.”
“Yeah, it will be, but like I said, we have savings. And our bonuses are going to be paid soon. We can make it work.”
“You guys can, like, you know, be together while I’m not here. I won’t mind. I promise.”
“We’ll play all that by ear, Trouble. We’ll talk about it until we find something that works for all three of us. We’ll talk it through before you go, and we’ll talk to you all the time when you’re away.”
“Yeah, we can video call you,” agrees Mat. “You can see what we’re up to, so you don’t feel left out.” He raises a suggestive eyebrow. “You can tell us what you want us to do.”
Relief and euphoria wash over me. “We can play more gay chicken,” I cry happily.
“Trouble,” Will says sternly, “you can’t play gay chicken with two confirmed bi guys. We’ll kick your ass six ways from Sunday.”
I start to laugh, feeling lighter and happier than I could have ever imagined. “We’ll make it work,” I whisper.
“We’ll make it work,” agrees Mat, a little flicker of excitement warming his soft brown eyes and creasing the barest hint of a smile into his face. “We’ll come to where you are. We’ll get to travel. And we’ll watch the fuck out of your show. It will be fun.”
“It won’t be that bad,” says Will. “And we’ll be right here, waiting, when you get back.”