Chapter Nine Alex
A HEAVY BASS line reverberated in my body, rattling my bones as high hat cracked my ears.
A soprano with a slightly Scandinavian accent belted out a tune, some trite lyrics about love in the clouds and thunder in the night.
Lights strobed high over the dance floor, a sweaty, churning mess of bodies, the heat against whom the A/C fought valiantly.
I stood in a trio of buddies, a tight little circle, while holding the plastic cup of my gin and tonic.
My friends went all out, launching themselves up to their newest favorite song while I bounced on my feet to the beat, body stiff as a corpse, with only the slightest of head bobs every other beat.
I hadn’t been to a gay club in two years and,,, wow. Did not miss it. How had I ever enjoyed this?
I sucked down the rest of my second gin and tonic and felt my vision twist as I excused myself from my buddies.
I squeezed between hordes of half-naked people, a few of them with wandering hands, as I pushed through and popped out the other side to the collage of high-top tables presented before a long bar.
The music faded only a fraction but thankfully the dimmed lighting didn’t strobe in my face.
I excused myself past a hen party, each of them drunker than the next, and found an open spot at the bar.
“Hey cutie,” an immaculately muscled bartender cooed as he came over. He wore a tank top that might as well have been painted on. Hair slicked back. A thick chain with a padlock hanging around his neck. “‘Nother gin and tonic?”
“Just a lite beer, please. Could you close the tab?”
He made a pouty face. “Leaving so soon?” I didn’t have to answer, thankfully, as he walked back to the middle of the bar to retrieve my requests.
I spun and put my elbows on the bar as I waited.
A few men winked at me as they passed, one blatantly looking me up and down and then biting his lower lip.
Guess I still got it? I wondered. Didn’t feel like that, after everything with Ricky. Although if someone as seizing as Rome found interest in me , I suppose I had at least something to offer in the looks department.
Ugh. Rome . My gut tensed at the thought.
I had put him out of my mind, or at least tried to.
We went from texting nonstop to a few “hey there” lines every other day.
Something happened. I could feel it in my bones as much as I felt the awful baseline of that song.
Five days had gone by. I watched every single one of his games as if I could divine secrets from his facial expression.
But no, it looked like regular Rome out there, hyperfocused on the game.
So why hadn’t he reached out? Did he lose interest already?
Something happened. I just know it .
The bartender came back and handed me an aluminum bottle of some crappy lite beer. I signed my check, gave him a good tip, and slipped my card back into my pocket.
What am I doing here? I thought. Those in their early twenties filled the room, some of them still looking like teenagers.
There I stood, a thirty-year-old who was content spending his weekends holed in an apartment editing photos until the sun sank and rose again.
Honestly, what did I expect to get out of this night? Finding someone new?
No. Rome’s texts and calling slowed down, but my affection for him did anything but abate.
Rome . Thoughts upon thoughts. That kiss when he left my apartment. How I guided him, pulled him against me, opened my mouth for him. Damn, and the hardness that pressed against me. I wanted to drop to my knees and examine what I was dealing with. How big was his bat and how surprised would I be?
I chugged my beer as my dick stiffened.
My phone buzzed. Dread settled over me. Ricky had been texting every other day with his pleas for my return. I ignored every single one of them but I had yet to block his name and number.
I pulled my phone out as I took a sip.
Incoming call from Rome.
I choked on the beer that tumbled down my throat. Coughed. Wiped the back of my mouth with my hand. It was a video call—his favorite. I quickly examined the room and discovered an unoccupied table in the corner. Beelined over to it. Answered.
“Hey!” I said, having to shout over the roar of the music.
There was Rome. Backward ball cap. Nondescript hotel background.
Hand tucked behind his head and an easy smile on his face that faded and turned to a grimace.
His mouth moved but I couldn’t hear the sound.
I held up my finger to ask him to hold on, then hung up.
I dialed him through a regular phone call and he answered before the first ring even kicked in.
“Where are you?” came his voice, playful but tinged with concern.
“At a bar in Boston,” I said, raising my voice so he could hear me and plugging my other ear with my finger. “Sorry. It’s loud.”
We spoke simultaneously next. Him with, “Sorry I haven’t called,” and me with, “Where have you been?”
We both laughed. I bit my tongue and let him go first. After a pause, he figured out it was his turn. “Hey. Listen, Alex. I’m sorry I’ve been distant the past couple of days.”
He paused and I jumped in. “Your games have been great. Only one loss. I’ve watched each one. You seemed okay.”
“You’re still watching?”
A sank onto a stool and put my back to the wall.
Rested my elbows on the table. “Of course I am, Rome. Why? Is everything okay? Something seems off. I don’t want to come across as clingy already but…
” Oof. The gin had gotten to me. The beer didn’t help.
“Did I say something? Did I come on too strong?” I remembered the last time we physically saw each other.
“Oh, shit, that kiss. That was too much, wasn’t it? I overstepped. Shit . I’m sorry, Rome.”
Another pause. I reran what I said through the Are You Buzzed filter and, yep, I spoke my mind. Finally, he said, “That kiss is the one thing that’s been keeping me going these past few days. It wasn’t that, Alex.”
I pressed my lips together as I felt heat seize my body. “Then what was it? We were talking constantly and then suddenly… nothing. I just… I don’t know, Rome. You’re traveling for games. Is this how it usually goes? Because if it is, I’m okay with that. Really. I just need to know. Communication—”
“Is the foundation of a relationship. I know. Sorry, it’s kind of hard to hear you right now. Can you call me when you get home? Or do you want me to text?”
I want to hear your voice. I love the sound of your voice, especially when you speak Italian. “Give me a half hour? I gotta get an Uber. I can be home in twenty or so.”
“Oh, jeez. Alex, no. I don’t want to interrupt your night.”
I smiled. Beamed, really. Made my head all swimmy. “Slugger, you can interrupt my time any night of the week. I’ll call you back in a half hour. Okay?”
“Well okay. Be safe.”
I kissed the microphone of my phone and hung up. Put my half drank beer bottle on the table and left the club without telling my friends.
?
For the silliest of moments, I forgot I lived in the Greater Boston Area.
Even at fifteen until midnight, traffic choked the streets as my driver tried to get us over the Charles and into Cambridge.
I sat in the back of the car and, with numb fingers, retrieved my phone from my jeans pocket.
The second gin and tonic burned its way through my system.
I didn’t drink often and one was enough to send me to the edge.
Two? “Free Fallin’” by Tom Petty came to mind.
My thumbs fumbled their way through a text.
Me: Might be late for that call. Will you still be up?
Rome: I’ll wait all night if I have to.
Snark was the first thing to come to mind. I wanted to reply and call him out for his recalcitrance over the past five days. To ignore his sweet sentiments and jab right into the heart of the issue. Instead, I swam right into the eddy of flattery.
Me: Then I’ll tell my driver to step on it.
Rome: Just be safe. I’ll be waiting.
It was ten past midnight by the time I got home. Paid half a mortgage in fees for the driver, something I carelessly did in the moment but when the alcohol cleared, I would berate myself. I made okay money, but it wasn’t like photography was exceedingly lucrative.
I snagged a bottle of water from the fridge and set some mood lighting with a dimmed lamp on the end table.
I fluffed the pillows on the couch so I could appear relaxed and yet still comfortably hold the phone.
After chugging half the bottle, I pep talked myself to clear the alcohol from my system, then thumbed the option to video call the one and only.
“There he is,” Rome said. I saw him in the same light, although this time he appeared lower in the hotel bed. “Home safe and sound?”
I made a quick show of the apartment and nodded. “I sure am. All snug in your hotel room?”
He smiled. “I sure am,” he repeated.
“Hey, congrats on your win against the Hawks last night. You guys played well.”
He moved in his bed and braced his fist against his cheek. “You really do watch each game, don’t you. The whole thing?”
I nodded. “I had no idea how long they last. Admittedly, I zone out sometimes. Four hours is quite a long time for a sports game.”
He chuckled. “Try playing that long and multiple times a week. It’s a lot.”
I snapped and swung my arm. “But not for big ol’ Wamowo Mow…
Wa…” I felt heat burn over my cheeks. My eyes misted, mouth went dry.
I pressed my lips together and worked my tongue in my mouth.
Rome’s eyes had grown as he peered into the camera.
“Ro-mo-lo Mo-ret-ti,” I said, over-exaggerating each syllable.
“Hold on, hold on, hold. What on earth was that?”