Chapter Thirteen
Dustin
Dustin watched him go around the corner on the other side of the bridge. He wasn’t even angry – he was…speechless. Because the kid was right.
Where had he gotten the idea that he was going to be able to mentor this guy? What kind of self-regarding asshole did that?
He spent the walk back trying to organize his feelings.
He was angry. There were things he’d said that were true and important, and Elliot had blown it all off and turned it around on him.
But telling Elliot that would probably get him nowhere.
He had to admit where Elliot was right and swallow the other stuff, and try not to preach, and hope he could eventually talk him around.
The knee ached when he got back, so he took an ibuprofen and lay on the couch with his phone in both hands over his head, typing and retyping the same message into a notes app for over an hour.
When it was finished, he read it five times.
Then he closed the app and went to Force.
When he got back, he opened the app and re-read the note.
Changed a few things. Pasted it into a text message. Changed a few more things. Sent it.
He didn’t hear from Elliot for the rest of the day.
Elliot
Bennet texted him around three. Elliot ignored it until after dinner.
He went down to the restaurant across the street to fortify himself with a cocktail while he read it. For reasons he didn’t totally understand, he ordered a whiskey, neat.
Something about the smell of whiskey on Dustin’s breath in the car.
He put the phone on the bar beside him and tapped it to read the message. It was long and rambling, like something a girl would send after you broke up with her. By the time Elliot finished reading it, his glass was empty, and his chest was warm. He ordered another and read it again.
It was kind of a dressing down, but it also sounded like an apology.
Which pissed him off. Because where did Bennet get off, being the bigger man?
So now he got to apologize and be all saintly?
What about Elliot? What if Elliot wanted to apologize and be the bigger man?
What if he wanted to do the right thing?
He put the phone away and finished his whiskey and went back up to the room. He was mad. Because he felt…bad.
He kept thinking about the part of Dustin’s message where he’d asked if Elliot really didn’t use protection and was he tested because if not then Dustin needed to know. Elliot hadn’t really thought about that.
And he knew the real reason he’d gotten so angry about Bennet logging that girl to the app wasn’t because of some moral thing about women. He was just pissed that Bennet went home with a girl at all. And pissed at himself for being pissed, because what was he, gay?
He lay on his bed and put Golden Girls on and watched Dorothy try to seduce a Catholic priest. One of Abuela’s favorites. Forgive Me, Father was the name of the episode, he was pretty sure. He pointed the remote at the TV and pulled up the menu to check.
Yep.
He sighed. Forgive me, Father.
Leave it to the Golden Girls to hit him right where it hurt. Sighing, he pulled out his phone and wrote something for Dustin into a notes app, and put the phone on the nightstand.
He sent it the next morning.
Dustin
He woke to a text from Elliot, and left it unopened while he got up to make his coffee. The knee was still sore, so he took two ibuprofen while it brewed, and sent Tom a text to request an additional rest day. Then he took his cup to the couch to read Elliot’s message.
He was slightly disappointed when he opened it to find only three words:
Forgive me father
He’d been hoping for more. Also, father? What was this new angle of fuckery?
He sent back, I forgive you. Can you forgive me?
No reply, so he went to get in the shower. When he came back, there was a new message on the screen:
they got donuts around here?
Frowning, Dustin sat on the bed with a towel around his waist and replied, Why?
IDK if I forgive you yet. Might need some sugar on it
He laughed. He felt relieved…and a little nervous again, which was a feeling he was beginning to weirdly enjoy.
Aren’t you at Force today? he sent.
not til this afternoon. You?
Taking it off. Knee’s a little stiff.
Three dots. Then: Okay sooo… and the donut emoji.
Elliot
The donut shop Dustin sent a pin for was called VooDoo and it looked nothing like what he wanted: He’d been aiming for something like Dunkin, and what he was getting was fussy pink brickwork and art in the windows. But the place was famous, according to Google, so he figured he’d give it a chance.
“I’m trusting you on this,” he said, as Bennet walked up.
“Trusting me?” Dustin frowned over his sunglasses. “On what?”
“This is not Dunkin. I don’t know if I can go here.”
Scoffing, Dustin opened the door and held it for him. “This place is about to blow Dunkin out of the water, little man.”
The chatter and the smell of coffee and burnt sugar hit Elliot as they walked in.
It was surprisingly busy. They got in line behind a girl with pink hair and tattoos all over her neck.
By the time they got to the front, Elliot was so ravenous he felt like buying the whole shop, but Bennet put his arm across his chest to keep him back from the counter and looked at Elliot over his sunglasses again.
“How much do you trust me?”
Elliot’s stomach did a little flip, and he silently cursed it. Stupid sunglasses. Stupid arm on his chest. This wasn’t supposed to be about getting horny for Bennet again. This was supposed to be Bennet buying him donuts to make up for being judgy.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because if all you’ve ever eaten is Dunkin Donuts, then I think I should be in charge here,” said Bennet.
Elliot surveyed him just long enough to let him know he was being generous by conceding this, then stepped back, putting up his hands. “Alright, Daddy. Take it away.”
That ‘Daddy’ looked like it landed exactly where he wanted it; Elliot wasn’t sure why he liked seeing Bennet flustered, but fucking with him in English was even more fun than fucking with him in Spanish.
Dustin bought a box of twelve, and when he turned around with it in his hands, he had a look like he hoped Elliot would be satisfied with this.
“Alright,” Elliot said, putting his back to the door and holding it as Dustin went out. “I forgive you.”
Dustin
Elliot’s hotel room was quiet. Sixth floor, thick carpet, floor-to-ceiling windows, a balcony with a view of the river in the distance.
A flatscreen TV on the wall was playing an old sit-com on mute when they walked in, but Elliot snatched up the remote and turned it off before Dustin could see what it was.
Elliot dropped the donut box on a dining table by the sliding door to the balcony and kicked off his shoes. He turned with an embarrassed shrug that made Dustin think he was not quite comfortable with the expensiveness of the room.
“Not bad digs,” said Dustin.
“I’ve been to nicer places.” Elliot sounded defensive. “But…you know. Sometimes you have to share with other guys.”
“Right.”
He opened the sliding door and Dustin followed him onto the balcony with hands in his pockets. The air was warm and the sun was sparkling on the river in the distance. They went to the rail and looked down. A restaurant across the street had a patio covered in umbrellas and sun hats.
The silence they still hadn’t addressed hung in the air between them, and Dustin felt like it was becoming impossible to ignore. I forgive you was all well and good, but they hadn’t actually talked about what happened at Bernie’s.
“Listen…” he said.
Elliot put up his hand. He put his back to the rail and rolled one shoulder, tilting his neck to crack it. He looked beautiful in the sun, and Dustin had to remind himself that that wasn’t a thing he thought about guys, no matter how dark and curly their hair was.
“You don’t gotta apologize again,” said Elliot. “I got mad. It was dumb. And ah…yeah, I am…tested. So that’s…fine. And you know, I heard you. About the other stuff. I’ll think about it.”
He shrugged, like that was that, and went back inside. Dustin sighed and leaned on the rail. He didn’t love Rodriguez brushing off a valid reaction to his own feelings as It was dumb. But it was an acknowledgment, at least. He didn’t need to push for more right away.
Back inside, he sat on the edge of the dining table and flipped the donut box open. The scent of roasted sugar filled the room and the first one he took out was still warm. He handed it to Elliot, and watched him stretching his shoulder with his arm across his chest as he went to the mini fridge.
“You want milk?” said Elliot, bending to stick his head in the door.
Dustin flicked his eyes away so he wouldn’t end up accidentally staring at his ass. “Sure.”
Elliot poured two glasses of milk then held the donut between his teeth as he came back and deposited Dustin’s on the table beside him. Their eyes met briefly as Dustin took another donut out of the box, and Elliot turned away. Dustin watched him stretching his shoulder again, wincing.
He took a bite. “What’s wrong with your shoulder?”
“Nothing. Went too hard on bench presses. It’s fine.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah, just need to stretch it.”
Dustin eyed him, chewing. You should be careful, he wanted to say.
You shouldn’t push through pain. You should ice it and take care and rest it.
But he didn’t even do any of that shit. He was taking ibuprofen and an extra rest day because he’d gone too hard at basketball on a busted knee.
He’d just be pointing the finger again, with three pointing right back at him.
So instead, he said, “They have a masseuse at Force. She’s good.” He set the donut down and brushed off his fingers.