Somewhere With You, Chapter Ten, Take Two
Somewhere With You, Chapter Ten, Take Two
Heath tries to ignore the world the next day, but it’s not easy. Anne only agrees to call off the rescue mission after he texts her a picture of himself proving he’s in his house, alive and with all his parts in place. Even then she still makes him promise to meet her for brunch on Sunday before she finally backs off. Ethan, who is totally clueless about the big, gay, possibly in-serious-like with my hooker crisis that Heath’s having, demands he come over to watch basketball on Sunday afternoon just because he thinks Heath’s a workaholic who has no life. Heath agrees to that too, figures he’ll be ready for some uncomplicated guy time after Anne gets done interrogating him about Friday night.
Once everyone is squared away, he turns off his phone, digs out his iPod and gets busy with chores he’s been ignoring for weeks. The gutters are full of leaves, there are two dead shrubs in the front flower bed that need to come out and the exhaust fan in his bathroom is making a whiny noise and needs to be replaced. He figures that should be plenty to get him through one whole day of not obsessing over what a fucked up mess his life has become. He can obsess tomorrow at Anne’s Inquisition.
Sure enough, it takes Heath all day and two trips to Home Depot, which is a long-assed haul from where he lives, to get everything done. By the end of the day he’s sore and so exhausted that even his dick gives him a rest. He makes it through half a pizza and two-thirds of a Tom Hanks movie before he falls asleep on the couch and doesn’t move until his phone goes off the next morning. It’s Anne, wanting to know what time and where for brunch.
“You pick,” he replies, still mostly asleep.
“Annie’s. We haven’t been there in a while.”
He mumbles, “We already went to one gay place this weekend,” before his brain catches up with the state of his life.
“No longer a good excuse, sweet cheeks!”
“Jesus, fine. But you're buyin’.”
“No problem! See you at ten.”
*****
The clock on his phone says it’s a quarter after nine. Heath throws it down in disgust, punches the button on the coffee maker, then stumbles upstairs for a shower. His dick is back with the program after a good night’s sleep and since it’s the only part of him awake enough to have any thoughts going, he spends some time washing it and making it happy until memories of Friday night seep in and guilt shuts him down. He wonders if Matt went back out or if he gave up and stayed home, wonders if he feels sleazy about what happened or if he just chalked it up to another night out that didn’t turn out like he planned.
He was a nice enough guy, smart and good-looking, along with a job with little to no potential for STD’s or jail time. On top of that, he acted like he was interested in more than just a one night stand and Heath can’t help but feel like a major shit for the way the night ended up. For once, his dick seems to get that sex is not an option and goes soft in his hand. He lets go of it and washes his hair instead, wishes that things could’ve been different, or at least that he could’ve been a little less of an ass. He thinks for an instant about stopping by his house and saying sorry, maybe even asking for another chance, but the thought of that brings back the sick feeling in his stomach and he knows it’s a bad idea.
*****
Anne’s already at the restaurant when he gets there, waiting in line and talking to a couple of guys wearing plaid flannel overshirts and work boots. They’ve got heavy beards and coarse hair on the backs of their hands, black on one guy, red on the other. According to what he’s learned in his crash course on gayness on the internet, they’re bears, and not really his type, although Jake’s a little bit on the hairy side and he likes it just fine on him.
Which, yeah, he knows he’s just a little bit obsessed and it’s pathetic, but he’s gone too long without a fix and his give-a-shit-meter is pegged out.
The Bunyan twins move off to their table and Anne fixes him with a glare. “You can’t do that, you know…
just disappear with some guy and then refuse to tell me what happened. As of now, that is officially against the rules of our friendship.”
“Sorry.” He ducks his head and stubs the toe of his shoe on the floor and feels about twelve.
“Ok, yeah, I get that part.” She snaps her fingers in the air beneath his face, forcing him to look up. “So what happened already?”
“He was nice, I think he liked me, I blew it.”
“From the look on your face, I’m assuming you mean “blew it” in a bad way and not a sexual one.”
“That would be correct.” Heath can feel the eyes of the two men behind them boring into his back and he really doesn’t want to entertain the whole place with his tale of failure.
“Ok, so that sucks, but still, it’s progress, right? I mean - seriously Heath! A few weeks ago you wouldn’t even admit that maybe possibly you were gay. This is a big step!”
The guys behind him snicker and Heath hunkers down in his coat, trying to make himself invisible. “I haven’t had enough to drink yet to have this conversation, ok?”
“Fine.” She shoots an annoyed glance over his shoulder, acknowledging that they are being seriously eavesdropped on. “But I want details as soon as we get a table.”
He hears one of their listeners mutter, “So do we!” but he ignores it and within a couple of minutes they get ushered to a table and he orders a beer and a Bloody Mary. It feels like one of those days.
*****
The waiter drops off their drinks and takes their orders. As soon as he’s gone, she starts in. “So what happened? How exactly did you blow that, Heath? That guy was hot and from where I was sitting, it looked like he was really into you!” She gives him a look that reminds him of the one his mom gave him when he broke her favorite lamp when he was eight. Like he really needs more guilt.
“Yeah, I know, I think he was, and he was nice, too. I already feel like shit about it. You don’t need to pour it on anymore. He was plenty good at that himself.”
“Awww… you hurt his feelings?” She pouts anyway, and he considers stabbing himself with his fork for penance but since Matt wouldn’t get any pleasure out of it, he opts not to.
“Yeah, I think so. It just all happened so fast and by the time it was my turn to… umm… do my part,” his eyes skitter off when she catches on to what he’s implying because there’s just no way to look her in the eye and talk about giving another guy head, “I was freaked out and I couldn’t do it. So I ran out.”
“Oh my God! You’re a tease!” She stops to take a sip of her drink and frowns at him. “I hate guys who don’t follow through. It’s the worst.”
He rolls his eyes at that. “Oh. Like when does that ever happen to you?”
She grins. “I dated you, remember? Back in college.”
He remembers but refuses to give her full credit for that one. “Yeah, but I just knew we’d be better off as friends. I didn’t want to mess it up with sex.”
She doesn’t even address that, just gets right back to the main issue. “So. Are you gonna be friends with him then?” She pokes at her lime with the drink stirrer, watching him from beneath her lashes.
Heath sighs. “I doubt it. I didn’t feel any good vibes when the door smacked me in the ass.”
“Well, that sucks, and I hate that he got cheated out of the awesomeness of Heath Andrew Ledger finally unleashing years of pent-up sexual frustration, but it was your first time out with a guy, right? I mean, surely you’re entitled to a few freak outs before you get it right.”
The thing about Anne is that she can read his face like most people read billboards and stop signs. After about three seconds, she plonks her glass down on the table and gasps loudly, “Oh my God! It wasn’t your first time with a guy, was it?”
Heath cringes, eyes darting around to see who’s laughing at him as he folds himself over the tabletop, shushing her. “Ssshhh!!! Would you please not broadcast this conversation to the whole entire restaurant? The world at large doesn’t need to hear every detail of how fucked up my sex life is!”
“Heath!” She pats his hand, like that might somehow make it all better, which it doesn’t, but then she lowers her voice, which does help a little. “Chill. Breathe. We don't know any of these people and no one’s listening anyway. No one actually cares about random strangers’ sex lives. You have to either be on TV or voted into office for that to matter, and you’re neither.” She rattles the ice in her glass, then leans in till they’re almost nose to nose. “You ok now?”
He takes a breath and another look around, and no one is pointing and staring, so he nods.
“So obviously I’m behind the times. Catch me up. Who’s the lucky guy and how come you went home with someone else Friday night if you’re seeing somebody else?”
And now what’s he supposed to say? She’ll know if he’s lying - she’s got skills the CIA would kill for - and he doesn’t really want to go that route anyway. They don’t lie to each other. That’s how they’ve managed to stay friends so long.
“His name’s Jake.” He twists his napkin and says a thank-you prayer when the waiter rounds the corner with their food. It’s just a delay though - he knows she won’t get truly distracted unless something blows up or somebody has a massive heart attack at a nearby table.
Within five seconds of the waiter leaving, she has her fork loaded up with a steamy bite of omelet and the inquisition is back on. “And? His name is Jake and he’s what… A clerk in your office? Someone you met waiting in line at Starbucks? A client?” She frowns at that idea. “Please tell me he’s not a client, Heath. That can’t be good if he is.”
She’s going to find out. There’s no way she won’t. He decides to make it easy on both of them. It’s his penalty for getting into this mess in the first place. “Umm, no, actually I’m pretty sure it’s much worse than if he was a client.”
“Worse?” She cocks her head to the side and points her fork at him. “What could be worse than that?” He waits until she stuffs another bite in her mouth before he answers.
“Well, the truth is, he’s a hooker. I think that’s about as worse as you can get, don’t you?” The horrified look of Oh my God, what the fuck? that she gets on her face tells him they’re finally in complete agreement.
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Heath tries to ignore the world the next day, but it’s not easy. Anne only agrees to call off the rescue mission after he texts her a picture of himself proving he’s in his house, alive and with all his parts in place. Even then she still makes him promise to meet her for brunch on Sunday before she finally backs off. Ethan, who is totally clueless about the big, gay, possibly in-serious-like with my hooker crisis that Heath’s having, demands he come over to watch basketball on Sunday afternoon just because he thinks Heath’s a workaholic who has no life. Heath agrees to that too, figures he’ll be ready for some uncomplicated guy time after Anne gets done interrogating him about Friday night.
Once everyone is squared away, he turns off his phone, digs out his iPod and gets busy with chores he’s been ignoring for weeks. The gutters are full of leaves, there are two dead shrubs in the front flower bed that need to come out and the exhaust fan in his bathroom is making a whiny noise and needs to be replaced. He figures that should be plenty to get him through one whole day of not obsessing over what a fucked up mess his life has become. He can obsess tomorrow at Anne’s Inquisition.
Sure enough, it takes Heath all day and two trips to Home Depot, which is a long-assed haul from where he lives, to get everything done. By the end of the day he’s sore and so exhausted that even his dick gives him a rest. He makes it through half a pizza and two-thirds of a Tom Hanks movie before he falls asleep on the couch and doesn’t move until his phone goes off the next morning. It’s Anne, wanting to know what time and where for brunch.
“You pick,” he replies, still mostly asleep.
“Annie’s. We haven’t been there in a while.”
He mumbles, “We already went to one gay place this weekend,” before his brain catches up with the state of his life.
“No longer a good excuse, sweet cheeks!”
“Jesus, fine. But you're buyin’.”
“No problem! See you at ten.”
*****
The clock on his phone says it’s a quarter after nine. Heath throws it down in disgust, punches the button on the coffee maker, then stumbles upstairs for a shower. His dick is back with the program after a good night’s sleep and since it’s the only part of him awake enough to have any thoughts going, he spends some time washing it and making it happy until memories of Friday night seep in and guilt shuts him down. He wonders if Matt went back out or if he gave up and stayed home, wonders if he feels sleazy about what happened or if he just chalked it up to another night out that didn’t turn out like he planned.
He was a nice enough guy, smart and good-looking, along with a job with little to no potential for STD’s or jail time. On top of that, he acted like he was interested in more than just a one night stand and Heath can’t help but feel like a major shit for the way the night ended up. For once, his dick seems to get that sex is not an option and goes soft in his hand. He lets go of it and washes his hair instead, wishes that things could’ve been different, or at least that he could’ve been a little less of an ass. He thinks for an instant about stopping by his house and saying sorry, maybe even asking for another chance, but the thought of that brings back the sick feeling in his stomach and he knows it’s a bad idea.
*****
Anne’s already at the restaurant when he gets there, waiting in line and talking to a couple of guys wearing plaid flannel overshirts and work boots. They’ve got heavy beards and coarse hair on the backs of their hands, black on one guy, red on the other. According to what he’s learned in his crash course on gayness on the internet, they’re bears, and not really his type, although Jake’s a little bit on the hairy side and he likes it just fine on him.
Which, yeah, he knows he’s just a little bit obsessed and it’s pathetic, but he’s gone too long without a fix and his give-a-shit-meter is pegged out.
The Bunyan twins move off to their table and Anne fixes him with a glare. “You can’t do that, you know…
just disappear with some guy and then refuse to tell me what happened. As of now, that is officially against the rules of our friendship.”
“Sorry.” He ducks his head and stubs the toe of his shoe on the floor and feels about twelve.
“Ok, yeah, I get that part.” She snaps her fingers in the air beneath his face, forcing him to look up. “So what happened already?”
“He was nice, I think he liked me, I blew it.”
“From the look on your face, I’m assuming you mean “blew it” in a bad way and not a sexual one.”
“That would be correct.” Heath can feel the eyes of the two men behind them boring into his back and he really doesn’t want to entertain the whole place with his tale of failure.
“Ok, so that sucks, but still, it’s progress, right? I mean - seriously Heath! A few weeks ago you wouldn’t even admit that maybe possibly you were gay. This is a big step!”
The guys behind him snicker and Heath hunkers down in his coat, trying to make himself invisible. “I haven’t had enough to drink yet to have this conversation, ok?”
“Fine.” She shoots an annoyed glance over his shoulder, acknowledging that they are being seriously eavesdropped on. “But I want details as soon as we get a table.”
He hears one of their listeners mutter, “So do we!” but he ignores it and within a couple of minutes they get ushered to a table and he orders a beer and a Bloody Mary. It feels like one of those days.
*****
The waiter drops off their drinks and takes their orders. As soon as he’s gone, she starts in. “So what happened? How exactly did you blow that, Heath? That guy was hot and from where I was sitting, it looked like he was really into you!” She gives him a look that reminds him of the one his mom gave him when he broke her favorite lamp when he was eight. Like he really needs more guilt.
“Yeah, I know, I think he was, and he was nice, too. I already feel like shit about it. You don’t need to pour it on anymore. He was plenty good at that himself.”
“Awww… you hurt his feelings?” She pouts anyway, and he considers stabbing himself with his fork for penance but since Matt wouldn’t get any pleasure out of it, he opts not to.
“Yeah, I think so. It just all happened so fast and by the time it was my turn to… umm… do my part,” his eyes skitter off when she catches on to what he’s implying because there’s just no way to look her in the eye and talk about giving another guy head, “I was freaked out and I couldn’t do it. So I ran out.”
“Oh my God! You’re a tease!” She stops to take a sip of her drink and frowns at him. “I hate guys who don’t follow through. It’s the worst.”
He rolls his eyes at that. “Oh. Like when does that ever happen to you?”
She grins. “I dated you, remember? Back in college.”
He remembers but refuses to give her full credit for that one. “Yeah, but I just knew we’d be better off as friends. I didn’t want to mess it up with sex.”
She doesn’t even address that, just gets right back to the main issue. “So. Are you gonna be friends with him then?” She pokes at her lime with the drink stirrer, watching him from beneath her lashes.
Heath sighs. “I doubt it. I didn’t feel any good vibes when the door smacked me in the ass.”
“Well, that sucks, and I hate that he got cheated out of the awesomeness of Heath Andrew Ledger finally unleashing years of pent-up sexual frustration, but it was your first time out with a guy, right? I mean, surely you’re entitled to a few freak outs before you get it right.”
The thing about Anne is that she can read his face like most people read billboards and stop signs. After about three seconds, she plonks her glass down on the table and gasps loudly, “Oh my God! It wasn’t your first time with a guy, was it?”
Heath cringes, eyes darting around to see who’s laughing at him as he folds himself over the tabletop, shushing her. “Ssshhh!!! Would you please not broadcast this conversation to the whole entire restaurant? The world at large doesn’t need to hear every detail of how fucked up my sex life is!”
“Heath!” She pats his hand, like that might somehow make it all better, which it doesn’t, but then she lowers her voice, which does help a little. “Chill. Breathe. We don't know any of these people and no one’s listening anyway. No one actually cares about random strangers’ sex lives. You have to either be on TV or voted into office for that to matter, and you’re neither.” She rattles the ice in her glass, then leans in till they’re almost nose to nose. “You ok now?”
He takes a breath and another look around, and no one is pointing and staring, so he nods.
“So obviously I’m behind the times. Catch me up. Who’s the lucky guy and how come you went home with someone else Friday night if you’re seeing somebody else?”
And now what’s he supposed to say? She’ll know if he’s lying - she’s got skills the CIA would kill for - and he doesn’t really want to go that route anyway. They don’t lie to each other. That’s how they’ve managed to stay friends so long.
“His name’s Jake.” He twists his napkin and says a thank-you prayer when the waiter rounds the corner with their food. It’s just a delay though - he knows she won’t get truly distracted unless something blows up or somebody has a massive heart attack at a nearby table.
Within five seconds of the waiter leaving, she has her fork loaded up with a steamy bite of omelet and the inquisition is back on. “And? His name is Jake and he’s what… A clerk in your office? Someone you met waiting in line at Starbucks? A client?” She frowns at that idea. “Please tell me he’s not a client, Heath. That can’t be good if he is.”
She’s going to find out. There’s no way she won’t. He decides to make it easy on both of them. It’s his penalty for getting into this mess in the first place. “Umm, no, actually I’m pretty sure it’s much worse than if he was a client.”
“Worse?” She cocks her head to the side and points her fork at him. “What could be worse than that?” He waits until she stuffs another bite in her mouth before he answers.
“Well, the truth is, he’s a hooker. I think that’s about as worse as you can get, don’t you?” The horrified look of Oh my God, what the fuck? that she gets on her face tells him they’re finally in complete agreement.
keep reading here: http://whiskiegurl.livejournal.com/18237.html