Chapter 23 Isaac
ISAAC
Evan barely speaks to me at work on Tuesday morning. He’s not rude or anything, just quiet. And it makes me extremely nervous for the meet-up we’ve got scheduled at my apartment tonight.
Because I can’t get anything done, I make an excuse about needing a haircut and my stylist having a sudden opening. I leave well before lunch. What I really intend to do is see my brother. I don’t know why I didn’t just tell Evan that—but here we are.
I’m almost positive I wake Jake up with my text that I’m on my way because his response isn’t as put together as his texts usually are.
The end result is, he’s available. I’ve mentioned wanting to see the fraternity house where he lives since that wasn’t the kind of thing I did in college.
I was too busy sowing my wild oats—clubbing and fucking and dragging myself to classes hungover as hell.
Jake goes to Hamilton Hills College, a small, private school north of San Francisco. They have exactly one fraternity and one sorority, which I find ridiculous. But according to him, joining up is the quickest way to make friends.
The campus is beautiful, situated near Napa Valley with all the accompanying nature and scenery.
His frat house is a two-story colonial, totally out of place among the other more modern buildings.
He’s out front when I pull up, waiting for me on a porch swing.
He’s showered, but he looks otherwise bedraggled.
Messy dark blond hair and shabby sweatshirt over threadbare flannel pants.
His hands are shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie, so I get a nod instead of a wave and a rumbly, “Hey.”
“We’re staying outside?” I ask, approaching him. “Not sure if you noticed, but it’s winter.”
He shrugs. “Sun’s out. Makes it seem warmer.”
Seem being the operative word.
“What the hell is going on?” he asks as I sit close to him, hoping to get some of his body heat. “You left work early? If you’ve got a fever or something, stay the hell away from me, I’ve got a date this weekend.”
“No fever. Boy problems.”
“You’re starting to make me think dating guys is harder than dating girls. What happened now?”
“The guy I’ve been seeing—”
“Deacon, right?”
I nod. “And the guy I’ve been fucking––”
“Your assistant?”
“They’re both coming over tonight. To talk.”
Jake turns my way and gives me wide eyes. “Talk, huh?”
“Here’s the thing.”
He laughs. “Yes. Do tell me the thing.”
“I think I’m in love with Evan.”
“No shit,” he says with a total lack of surprise.
“But I know—like I know deep down Deacon is right. For me. Maybe not forever—I’m not prepared to say that, but for right now—he’s exactly what I need to get past this thing with Evan.”
“And why do you need to get past it?”
“Because I’m not sure he wants that from me, but you want to know the kicker?”
“There’s a kicker?”
“Evan is interested in Deacon.”
“Seriously? How did that happen?”
“Did I not mention they’re roommates?”
“Whoa. What? Roommates or boyfriends?”
“Roommates,” I say.
“So they’re not like—together.”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then it’s just a crush. Which, I should point out, is also what you’ve got on Evan. Didn’t anyone ever tell you love is a two-way street?”
I shake my head. “It’s absolutely possible to be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.”
“I think you’d get over it pretty quick if you found the right person who did return your feelings.”
“Sure, but I can’t just pick up those feelings from one person and transfer them onto someone else.”
“What are they coming over for?”
I sigh. “Clearing the air apparently.”
“And that has to happen in person?”
“Evan’s threatening to quit his job.” Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but he doesn’t want to be my assistant anymore, so it’s the same difference to me.
“No offense, bro, but he should have quit a long time ago. Or you should have transferred him.”
I nod, prepared to accept whatever harsh truths my brutally honest little brother has to offer. I can’t feel any worse today. “ I don’t want to lose him.”
“You know, he doesn’t cease to exist if he stops working for you. It might even make your situation better.”
“How?”
“Well, one of two things could happen, right? You’re able to move on and forget about him—out of sight, out of mind—or with the power dynamics and sneaking around shit off the table, you’re able to actually try having a relationship.”
“He was pretty clear about wanting to do the first option.”
“Then there’s your answer,” Jake says grimly.
“I know. So here I am.”
“Want me to show you around?” he asks. “I’ll let you buy me coffee at the student union.”
“Sounds good.”
Jake and I spend the rest of the morning wandering the campus before he gives me a tour of the fraternity house.
Thirty guys live here, and it both looks and smells like it.
The only athletics played at this school are tennis and golf, but it stinks like a gym locker room full of sweaty jocks and spilled beer.
Jake claims he can’t smell it, but I’m overwhelmed by it.
“You’re so gay, dude. It’s the pheromones catching you.”
“It’s not sexy,” I assure him.
His room is a decent size, and it smells marginally better than the rest of the house.
His bed is made—probably because he was expecting me, but his roommate’s side is a mess.
Since the roommate isn’t here, Jake straightens the bed sheets and has a seat while I sit on Jake’s bed and look around.
“Do you use the old sock on the doorknob trick when you bring girls home?”
“I try not to bring girls here,” he admits. “Just because I can’t smell it anymore doesn’t mean I’m not aware. It’s better when we throw parties. We pitch in for a deep clean.”
“So, it smells like Pine-Sol and pheromones.”
Jake grins. “That’s the goal, yeah.”
“Who’s the date with? The girl you brought to my place last week?”
“Nah. Different one.”
“Special?”
“I mean, you never know, right, but that’s not my first impression. Is it normal at my age to get bored easy? With girls? Or whatever?”
“Bored with which part?” I ask.
“Sex. I mean it’s all just—tab A slot B, and can you explain to me why no one will suck my dick?”
I laugh. “They’re young. I feel like sometimes when you’re young, you need to know someone a little better to get experimental.”
“How is a blow job experimental? Girls were giving them out like candy in high school. And I think I have a good dick.”
“I’ve seen your dick. It might be a little intimidating.”
“Really?” he asks, staring down at his crotch.
“No one’s ever mentioned that?”
“Well, yeah, but I thought they were being nice.”
“I think they were scared. How do you not know you’re packing? Have you ever been in a locker room?”
“I don’t look at other guys’ junk.”
I laugh. “Why not?”
“Because—what if they saw me?”
“Everybody looks,” I say.
“How would you know what straight guys do?”
I shrug. It’s a fair point. “Just keep it clean, little bro. Someone will go down on you eventually.”
“I’m very clean.”
“I’m ready to change the subject,” I say. “Tell me about the girl.”
I’m picturing the conversation I’m supposed to have with Deacon and Evan on the terrace. I turned on the fire pit and the two corner heaters. The thermometer tells me it’s sixty-eight degrees after half an hour of running everything, which is the exact temperature I keep the apartment.
While I’m not planning to get drunk before they get here, I have a glass of wine to settle the wreck of my nervous system, and to my horror, halfway through the glass, I’m bent over the toilet in my bathroom, puking it up.
That’s a first. I shared half a pizza with Jake at his frat house, and it wasn’t bothering me, but there it all is, out of my system.
I flush and push myself away from the toilet, taking a moment to catch my breath.
I check my shirt, and while there’s nothing on it, I feel newly disgusting.
I strip it off, then stand over the sink for fifteen minutes, brushing my teeth and gargling obsessively. Then I wash my face. Twice.
The new shirt I pick out is similar to the first—an expensive version of a long sleeved t-shirt in forest green. I’m in my most comfortable jeans. Soft denim with a dark wash. I have to redo my hair after all the face washing.
But puking is no joke—at least not when I do it. My right eye is now bloodshot from a busted blood vessel or two.
I hate not knowing what to expect. Tonight—how it’s going to go, isn’t fully in my hands, and I could lose the person I depend on most in my life. I could also lose someone I know for a fact could make me happy. I could lose them both.
Open, honest communication is, of course, something I aspire to, but it’s not my general practice.
In business, it can leave you vulnerable, and in relationships, it can get you slaughtered.
My heart is a soft and squishy thing I do my best to protect behind expensive suits and an intimidating title, but if someone manages to slip past those two guards, I’ve got nothing except an unreliable ability to keep my feelings to myself.
I’m going to get hurt tonight, and my upset stomach knows it.
I remind myself it won’t be the worst hurt—that honor will always go to my dear old dad for pushing me out of Jake’s life when I came out, and while that particular defining wound has been plastered over, situations like this—impending rejections—seem to bring it sharply back into focus.
Still, I recognize the need for the three of us to meet. We’ve wound up in an untenable situation through no fault of our own, and now we have to see our way out of it. I should be grateful for the opportunity to keep it amicable, but I’m sick about it.
I expect them to arrive together, so when Deacon steps off the elevator alone, it’s a moment before I can move or speak.
I’m halfway between the kitchen and the living area, and his approach is slow. I swallow on a dry throat at how goddamn good he looks. How powerful. Desire stirs uncomfortably low in my belly as he stalks closer.