Somewhere With You, Chapter Fourteen, Take Two
Somewhere With You, Chapter Fourteen, Take Two
The water’s hot, steam so thick he can barely see the wall, and for the first minute or two Jake just stands there and shivers, fingers and toes burning in the sudden heat when they were practically frozen before. He’d halfway expected Heath to get in with him, but no, he just got him out of his clothes like he was undressing a child, then went back downstairs. Jake’s left wondering if he waited too late, if the deal’s off now and Heath’s come to his senses and realized he doesn’t need to be paying for this. Maybe seeing him with Conrad was too much.
It'll suck if he’s dragged his ass all the way out here for nothing, but as he plays over the last few minutes in his head, he decides that’s probably not the case. He noticed a few extra touches while Heath was undressing him, his sure fingers taking just a little longer than necessary to deal with his clothes, slipping over his skin and leaving little trails of heat, and he was looking awfully close for somebody not interested. Jake’s gotten pretty good at reading the signs that a guy’s into him, and Heath is still giving off the signs.
Once the shivering begins to subside, Jake starts lathering up with the almost-new bar of soap he finds in the soap cubby. The hot water feels good running down his body and the tiles he’s standing on feel smooth and grimeless beneath his feet. It’s the best shower he’s had in years, a thousand times better than the one he took just a few hours before in the cramped little bathroom off Conrad’s office that hasn’t been cleaned in months and had one sliver of soap that Conrad had taken from a hotel room God knows when.
Not that Conrad can’t afford soap - he just doesn’t give a shit about anything but himself, and soap in that rat-hole doesn’t matter to him. Normally Jake doesn’t think about it, just tries to blot the whole fucked-up deal out of his mind and pretend like it isn’t ever going to happen again until Conrad shows up and it is happening again whether he wants it to or not. In the big scheme of things, it’s probably a small price to pay for doing business without any hassle or worrying about going to jail.
He hates it though, and today it was inconvenient as hell because Conrad’s a jerk and isn’t really satisfied unless he hurts him. His mouth is sore and his ass is even sorer, and those are the two things Heath is most likely going to want. Jake figures he can fake his way through a blow job without too much problem, but if Heath wants to fuck him, that’s going to be a bitch. He runs his fingers down his crack, gingerly fingering his opening and it’s definitely tender. If he had a choice, he’d give it a few days off, but he’s here and he needs the money - he’s here because he needs the money - so he’ll do what he has to do. After tonight, it’s out of commission till the weekend even if Tatum Channing comes along begging to get laid.
Heath was begging. Underneath all the anger and superiority, he was begging for it and Jake doesn’t understand why, doesn’t get at all why he’s still even coming around. The guys Jake normally does aren’t looking for anything but release, uncomplicated and meaningless, and they could get it from anyone but they pick Jake because he’s easy and he’s safe.
But Jake doesn’t get that vibe from Heath at all. Jake isn't just a convenient hole for Heath to stick his dick in. It’s almost like Heath is actually interested in him. The conversation in the grocery store had been more like one he’d have with a boyfriend - or someone who wanted to be his boyfriend - than a client. And the look on Heath’s face in the bar later, when he’d seen him with Conrad, had been angry and possessive. Jake isn’t sure what’s going on in Heath’s head and he probably shouldn’t be here trying to find out because that’s always the kiss of death for a guy like him. Confusing the relationship he has with a client with anything real is an amateur mistake and Jake’s way too experienced to go down that road.
But is he here and no matter what he’d like to tell himself, he didn’t almost die from exposure for a couple hundred bucks. He’s here because he wants to know why Heath had that look on his face in the bar, and because maybe, just for once, he wants something good for himself in bed. He can’t remember the last time - other than the last time he was here - that he got to be with someone who turned him on. Maybe his job hasn’t completely killed his interest in sex after all.
As he drops his towel on the floor and reaches for the clothes that Heath left out for him, Jake’s actually thinking about the things he wants to do with him when they do finally get to bed. But when his fingers close around the underwear that Heath chose for him, that happy train of thought slams face first into a brick wall.
*****
Heath’s still shredding the chicken meat when Jake walks in, wearing Heath’s clothes except for the underwear, which he’s twirling on his forefinger. Which means he’s not wearing them and is naked beneath the pajama pants, Heath’s brain informs him helpfully, but Jake doesn’t give him any time to think about that before he starts talking.
“I hope you weren’t seriously counting on me wearing these. If this is your kink, man, you definitely need to start looking for a new friend.”
Heath glances from the extremely innocent-looking underwear back to Jake’s face. His lips don’t look too much worse for the earlier wear and the smirk is back, twisting his beautiful mouth into a parody of a smile that’s sexy but totally closed off. Beneath it all, Heath can still feel his uncertainty. That needs to go away - he wants Jake to feel safe in his house. Besides, he has no idea what Jake is even talking about.
“Ummm… actually, my grandmother gave me those for Christmas. I’m pretty sure they’re the kinkless kind.”
“Yeah. My grandma gave me some just like ‘em too. Back when I was seven.” There’s bite in both his voice and his glance as Jake shoots the offending underwear across the room, rubber band style. They end up snagged by the ficus tree sitting by the French doors that open onto the deck.
“That’s kinda my point. My grandmother doesn’t even know there’s such a thing as kinky,” Heath says, scraping chicken scraps into the garbage.
“Yeah, but you do.”
“Barely,” Heath admits, embarrassed but too interested in the conversation to care. “And I promise, those don’t do anything for me. What kind of weirdo gets off on a seven-year-old’s underwear?”
“Guys who want you to wear them so they can pretend you’re a little kid,” Jake informs him with a raised eyebrow and a look that says, Hello, what rock have you been living under?
“Oh.” Heath turns to the sink and starts washing his hands, looks back over his shoulder and asks, “Really? People actually do that?” He should probably be embarrassed at how naïve he is, but really, if knowing shit like this is the alternative, then maybe it’s not so bad.
The suspicion fades out of Jake’s face finally, and he leans against the island, inspecting the bowls of ingredients Heath’s got ready. “Of course they do. People are total freaks. How can you be a lawyer and not know that?”
“I do estate planning. I found out people were greedy and conniving when I was five, so that’s not news, but this other stuff is, I guess.”
“Gotcha.”
“So I’m guessing something like that happened to you?”
At first he thinks Jake isn’t going to answer, but then he shrugs like it’s no big deal and says, “One time a guy offered me five hundred dollars if I’d let him put me in a diaper, then take a shit and let him change me.” He snags a piece of chicken and pops it into his mouth, chews like they’re having a totally normal conversation. Heath dries his hands, then gets beers from the fridge and tries to keep the revulsion off his face in case Jake thinks it’s directed at him, which it isn’t.
“Uhh… so did you?” He hands over a bottle, opens his own. “Five hundred bucks is a lot of money.”
Jake twists off the cap, watching him from beneath his lashes as he answers. “Told him I’d do it for a thousand. Almost shit my pants for real when he said ok, just like that.” Jake snaps his fingers, then gives a small, half-hearted laugh but Heath doesn’t join in. “Anyway, when we got to his hotel room and I saw the bed and the…stuff, I freaked out, told him I couldn’t do it.” He shrugs again, sips his beer. No big deal.
“Did he get mad?” Heath pulls a casserole dish out of the cabinet, sets it on the counter, rips into a package of tortillas.
“Nope. Told me he’d figured I’d pussy out. It was a long time ago - guess he could tell I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.” Jake takes a quick sip of his beer.
It doesn’t feel like the end of the story, so Heath asks, “So what happened?”
“He offered me two hundred bucks if I’d put on some underwear just like those,” he nods towards the plant, “and let him spank me.”
Heath gets a vision of that in his head - some perverted old guy with Jake spread out across his lap - and it makes his stomach turn. “Did you?” He hopes like hell the answer’s no, but the sudden flush on Jake’s cheeks gives it away.
“Yeah. I had to. I was hungry.”
Heath’s hands feel awkward and shaky as he peels a tortilla off the stack. He’s not sure what to say that won’t come out wrong. He looks back down at the food, starts loading chicken into the tortilla in his hand, is thankful as hell when Jake keeps talking.
“So anyway, that’s why I usually won’t go home with people. I could make a lot more money that way, but it’s not worth it for the fucked-up shit they want to do to me.”
“What made you change your mind tonight?” Heath risks a look up, not sure what he expects to see in Jake’s face, but if it’s love or passion or any of that romance-novel kinda stuff, he’s out of luck.
“Like you said back at the bar, I need the money,” Jake admits, and his honesty stings even though Heath knows the score, knows he shouldn’t let it. “Besides, if you’re a freak, you’re hidin’ it pretty damn well.”
“Yeah, guess it’s kinda hard to be a scary lecher when you’re actually a thirty-one-year-old virgin.”
“Definitely true.” Jake sips his beer, watching Heath thoughtfully. After a few seconds, he tips his bottle towards Heath and asks, “But we’re only talking guys here, right? I mean, you’ve been with girls, haven’t you?”
Jake actually looks concerned and Heath nods quickly, not wanting to seem like more of a pathetic loser than he already is. “Yeah, sure… I mean, I’ve dated lots of girls,” he mutters, and somehow it doesn’t sound nearly as convincing as it had in his head.
“Dated doesn’t mean the same thing as fucked,” Jake points out the obvious.
Heath forks up more peppers and onions, eyes focused firmly on his task. “I know that.”
Jake clears his throat and Heath can feel the next question like it’s a live thing about to slither into their presence. He isn’t sure why this matters to Jake. Maybe he’s just making conversation to pass the time.
“So when was the last time you actually slept with a girl?”
Heath shrugs, lasered in on loading the enchiladas like it’s brain surgery. “I don’t know. Coupla years maybe.”
Jake’s mouth falls open a little at that admission. Heath can see it out of the corner of his eye. “Jesus, dude! And that wasn’t a huge fuckin’ clue that something was wrong?”
“You mean that I was gay?”
“Uhhh… yeah. Seriously, man, you’re like every woman’s wet dream. Nice, good-looking, good job. Something’s gotta be wrong if the only action your dick is gettin’ for two solid years is self-service.”
“Maybe I just didn’t want to know, you know? At the time, I told myself I was too busy to deal with a relationship, which was true, and I didn’t want to be the guy who fucked girls and then disappeared. It’s not like I was dyin’ for it and not gettin’ any. I just didn’t really care, so I didn’t worry about it.”
“So what - you dated chicks until they wanted sex, and then you disappeared?”
Heath thinks for a second, then nods. “Yeah, I guess that’s pretty much how it went down.” He folds up the last enchilada, reaches for the can of red sauce.
“Huh. So how’d that work out for you?” Jake asks, draining the last of his beer.
“Not so good, really. The last girl I dated was the third one to suggest maybe I was batting for the wrong team. I met you right after that and decided to find out.” He points at Jake’s bottle. “I’m switching to wine. Which do you want?”
“I’ll stick with this.” Jake slides over the empty and Heath nods towards the fridge for him to help himself. “So. Are we still testing the theory or what?”
Heath feels a little rush of heat through his body at the we, which is completely ridiculous. “Nope. I think you’ve got me convinced.”
Jake grins, eases up next to Heath, looking sexy as hell in Heath’s clothes and his kitchen and his house. “Cool. Glad I could help.”
Heath swallows hard. “Yeah. Me too. I guess.” The food’s ready to go in the oven. He wasn’t paying that much attention, but all the bowls of ingredients are empty, and he’s pretty sure Jake didn’t eat them all. Hopefully it’ll at least be edible.
“What’s that s’posed to mean? Don’t you want a chance to find somebody you can really be with, body and soul?” Jake’s standing close, head cocked to the side studying him. His blue eyes are almost grey looking in the soft light of the kitchen, and his stubble’s dark and rough against his pale skin. He looks so young, but then there’s his eyes, which are timeless, and Heath feels easy with him in a way he’s never been with anyone else, not even Anne. It’s good, but it scares the fuck out of him too.
“Really, I don’t know what I want except to figure myself out. Personally, I’ve never cared about getting married or living with anybody. My family’s pushed it, but I’ve been fine on my own. I don’t see any reason that should change now, especially since it’ll make life a thousand times more awkward.” He sticks the casserole dish in the oven, then pulls a bottle of wine from the rack at the end of the island.
“Maybe because you might actually find the right person, now you know where to look. And it doesn’t have to be awkward. Just tell people to fuck off if they don’t like your lifestyle.”
“That’s not always an option.” Heath gouges the corkscrew into the foil and rips it off. He’s been drinking since breakfast, not slamming them back or anything, just slow and steady, but still, he shouldn’t drink anymore. He’s not in the mood to be smart tonight, though, and it’s not likely he’ll have to get up for work in the morning. He can hear the ice falling, click click click outside the windows. The T.V. people mentioned possible power outages if it keeps up for long. He hopes the food will get done before that happens.
“And besides, so far I’ve looked in bars, which is where you’re supposed to find people, and I’ve found you and one other guy who’d probably shove me into traffic if he got half a chance. I’m not holding my breath waiting for Mr. Right.”
If Jake is the least bit interested in the fact that he got some action with another guy, he doesn’t let on at all. “Dude. You’ve only been gay for like a month. Give it a chance. Besides, you hook up with people you find in bars. You don’t marry them.”
“Great. So maybe someday I’ll meet a nice lawyer at a convention and we’ll settle down, adopt some dogs from the animal shelter and host cool dinner parties. As long as I don’t meet him in the hotel bar, huh?”
Heath can hear the bitterness in his voice, but maybe Jake can’t since they don’t know each other like at all. He clinks his glass of wine against Jake’s bottle, then waves it towards the sofa. Jake pushes off the island and they start moving that way. “So, what about you,” Heath asks as he flops down on one end, totally over being the sole focus of the conversation. He turns to face Jake, puts his feet on the cushion between them. “You ever think about settling down?”
Jake laughs, and the edge is back in his voice, which Heath notices right away. “Uh… no, dude. I’m a hooker. That’s pretty much the opposite of settling down.”
“So what? Is this your life calling or just a way to make ends meet till you find something more lucrative and less illegal?”
Jake tips his head and eyes him curiously. He’s all stretched out on the other end of the couch and Heath wants to be down there with him, but he’s all balled up inside. Conversation’s good enough for now, maybe even better if Jake’ll keep talking.
“You get pretty hung up on legalities, don’t you?”
“I’m a lawyer. It’s what I get paid to do.” He pokes Jake’s thigh with his toe. “Plus, I could get fired for this, you know, and that would suck.”
“So… why didn’t you make a better play for that other guy you found? Hard to believe he could be worse baggage than me.”
Heath takes a second to high-five himself that Jake did catch that part of the conversation, then gets a picture in his head of Matt on the other end of his couch instead of Jake. The way it makes him feel inside - squirmy, uncomfortable, wrong - is Jake’s answer, but Heath doesn’t give it, just shrugs and says, “Ehh… he was a nice guy. But it’s too early. I’m not ready to deal with that yet.”
A move on TV catches Jake’s eye - they’re showing game highlights for the umpteenth time - and when he looks interested, Heath grabs the remote and cranks up the volume, willing to give the serious stuff a rest for a while. “You catch the game?”
Jake glances at him for a second, then back at the screen, props his feet on the coffee table and settles deeper in the couch. “Just the second quarter. Looked like it was gonna be a good one.”
“Yeah, man, you missed it. Kobe was out of control today.” The scene changes to a play from the first quarter. “Watch this shot! It’s unbelievable the shit this guy can do with a basketball.”
“Christ, I can’t believe he made that!” Jake says as they watch Kobe Bryant sail a quarter of the court length to make an impossible layup. The talk shifts easily from their separate, fucked-up lives to basketball, and Heath lets himself get caught up in the moment… easy, uncomplicated conversation with someone who makes him feel safe and dangerous all at the same time, hungry for things he never even thought of before and which feel as undoable as the moves Kobe makes on the court.
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The water’s hot, steam so thick he can barely see the wall, and for the first minute or two Jake just stands there and shivers, fingers and toes burning in the sudden heat when they were practically frozen before. He’d halfway expected Heath to get in with him, but no, he just got him out of his clothes like he was undressing a child, then went back downstairs. Jake’s left wondering if he waited too late, if the deal’s off now and Heath’s come to his senses and realized he doesn’t need to be paying for this. Maybe seeing him with Conrad was too much.
It'll suck if he’s dragged his ass all the way out here for nothing, but as he plays over the last few minutes in his head, he decides that’s probably not the case. He noticed a few extra touches while Heath was undressing him, his sure fingers taking just a little longer than necessary to deal with his clothes, slipping over his skin and leaving little trails of heat, and he was looking awfully close for somebody not interested. Jake’s gotten pretty good at reading the signs that a guy’s into him, and Heath is still giving off the signs.
Once the shivering begins to subside, Jake starts lathering up with the almost-new bar of soap he finds in the soap cubby. The hot water feels good running down his body and the tiles he’s standing on feel smooth and grimeless beneath his feet. It’s the best shower he’s had in years, a thousand times better than the one he took just a few hours before in the cramped little bathroom off Conrad’s office that hasn’t been cleaned in months and had one sliver of soap that Conrad had taken from a hotel room God knows when.
Not that Conrad can’t afford soap - he just doesn’t give a shit about anything but himself, and soap in that rat-hole doesn’t matter to him. Normally Jake doesn’t think about it, just tries to blot the whole fucked-up deal out of his mind and pretend like it isn’t ever going to happen again until Conrad shows up and it is happening again whether he wants it to or not. In the big scheme of things, it’s probably a small price to pay for doing business without any hassle or worrying about going to jail.
He hates it though, and today it was inconvenient as hell because Conrad’s a jerk and isn’t really satisfied unless he hurts him. His mouth is sore and his ass is even sorer, and those are the two things Heath is most likely going to want. Jake figures he can fake his way through a blow job without too much problem, but if Heath wants to fuck him, that’s going to be a bitch. He runs his fingers down his crack, gingerly fingering his opening and it’s definitely tender. If he had a choice, he’d give it a few days off, but he’s here and he needs the money - he’s here because he needs the money - so he’ll do what he has to do. After tonight, it’s out of commission till the weekend even if Tatum Channing comes along begging to get laid.
Heath was begging. Underneath all the anger and superiority, he was begging for it and Jake doesn’t understand why, doesn’t get at all why he’s still even coming around. The guys Jake normally does aren’t looking for anything but release, uncomplicated and meaningless, and they could get it from anyone but they pick Jake because he’s easy and he’s safe.
But Jake doesn’t get that vibe from Heath at all. Jake isn't just a convenient hole for Heath to stick his dick in. It’s almost like Heath is actually interested in him. The conversation in the grocery store had been more like one he’d have with a boyfriend - or someone who wanted to be his boyfriend - than a client. And the look on Heath’s face in the bar later, when he’d seen him with Conrad, had been angry and possessive. Jake isn’t sure what’s going on in Heath’s head and he probably shouldn’t be here trying to find out because that’s always the kiss of death for a guy like him. Confusing the relationship he has with a client with anything real is an amateur mistake and Jake’s way too experienced to go down that road.
But is he here and no matter what he’d like to tell himself, he didn’t almost die from exposure for a couple hundred bucks. He’s here because he wants to know why Heath had that look on his face in the bar, and because maybe, just for once, he wants something good for himself in bed. He can’t remember the last time - other than the last time he was here - that he got to be with someone who turned him on. Maybe his job hasn’t completely killed his interest in sex after all.
As he drops his towel on the floor and reaches for the clothes that Heath left out for him, Jake’s actually thinking about the things he wants to do with him when they do finally get to bed. But when his fingers close around the underwear that Heath chose for him, that happy train of thought slams face first into a brick wall.
*****
Heath’s still shredding the chicken meat when Jake walks in, wearing Heath’s clothes except for the underwear, which he’s twirling on his forefinger. Which means he’s not wearing them and is naked beneath the pajama pants, Heath’s brain informs him helpfully, but Jake doesn’t give him any time to think about that before he starts talking.
“I hope you weren’t seriously counting on me wearing these. If this is your kink, man, you definitely need to start looking for a new friend.”
Heath glances from the extremely innocent-looking underwear back to Jake’s face. His lips don’t look too much worse for the earlier wear and the smirk is back, twisting his beautiful mouth into a parody of a smile that’s sexy but totally closed off. Beneath it all, Heath can still feel his uncertainty. That needs to go away - he wants Jake to feel safe in his house. Besides, he has no idea what Jake is even talking about.
“Ummm… actually, my grandmother gave me those for Christmas. I’m pretty sure they’re the kinkless kind.”
“Yeah. My grandma gave me some just like ‘em too. Back when I was seven.” There’s bite in both his voice and his glance as Jake shoots the offending underwear across the room, rubber band style. They end up snagged by the ficus tree sitting by the French doors that open onto the deck.
“That’s kinda my point. My grandmother doesn’t even know there’s such a thing as kinky,” Heath says, scraping chicken scraps into the garbage.
“Yeah, but you do.”
“Barely,” Heath admits, embarrassed but too interested in the conversation to care. “And I promise, those don’t do anything for me. What kind of weirdo gets off on a seven-year-old’s underwear?”
“Guys who want you to wear them so they can pretend you’re a little kid,” Jake informs him with a raised eyebrow and a look that says, Hello, what rock have you been living under?
“Oh.” Heath turns to the sink and starts washing his hands, looks back over his shoulder and asks, “Really? People actually do that?” He should probably be embarrassed at how naïve he is, but really, if knowing shit like this is the alternative, then maybe it’s not so bad.
The suspicion fades out of Jake’s face finally, and he leans against the island, inspecting the bowls of ingredients Heath’s got ready. “Of course they do. People are total freaks. How can you be a lawyer and not know that?”
“I do estate planning. I found out people were greedy and conniving when I was five, so that’s not news, but this other stuff is, I guess.”
“Gotcha.”
“So I’m guessing something like that happened to you?”
At first he thinks Jake isn’t going to answer, but then he shrugs like it’s no big deal and says, “One time a guy offered me five hundred dollars if I’d let him put me in a diaper, then take a shit and let him change me.” He snags a piece of chicken and pops it into his mouth, chews like they’re having a totally normal conversation. Heath dries his hands, then gets beers from the fridge and tries to keep the revulsion off his face in case Jake thinks it’s directed at him, which it isn’t.
“Uhh… so did you?” He hands over a bottle, opens his own. “Five hundred bucks is a lot of money.”
Jake twists off the cap, watching him from beneath his lashes as he answers. “Told him I’d do it for a thousand. Almost shit my pants for real when he said ok, just like that.” Jake snaps his fingers, then gives a small, half-hearted laugh but Heath doesn’t join in. “Anyway, when we got to his hotel room and I saw the bed and the…stuff, I freaked out, told him I couldn’t do it.” He shrugs again, sips his beer. No big deal.
“Did he get mad?” Heath pulls a casserole dish out of the cabinet, sets it on the counter, rips into a package of tortillas.
“Nope. Told me he’d figured I’d pussy out. It was a long time ago - guess he could tell I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.” Jake takes a quick sip of his beer.
It doesn’t feel like the end of the story, so Heath asks, “So what happened?”
“He offered me two hundred bucks if I’d put on some underwear just like those,” he nods towards the plant, “and let him spank me.”
Heath gets a vision of that in his head - some perverted old guy with Jake spread out across his lap - and it makes his stomach turn. “Did you?” He hopes like hell the answer’s no, but the sudden flush on Jake’s cheeks gives it away.
“Yeah. I had to. I was hungry.”
Heath’s hands feel awkward and shaky as he peels a tortilla off the stack. He’s not sure what to say that won’t come out wrong. He looks back down at the food, starts loading chicken into the tortilla in his hand, is thankful as hell when Jake keeps talking.
“So anyway, that’s why I usually won’t go home with people. I could make a lot more money that way, but it’s not worth it for the fucked-up shit they want to do to me.”
“What made you change your mind tonight?” Heath risks a look up, not sure what he expects to see in Jake’s face, but if it’s love or passion or any of that romance-novel kinda stuff, he’s out of luck.
“Like you said back at the bar, I need the money,” Jake admits, and his honesty stings even though Heath knows the score, knows he shouldn’t let it. “Besides, if you’re a freak, you’re hidin’ it pretty damn well.”
“Yeah, guess it’s kinda hard to be a scary lecher when you’re actually a thirty-one-year-old virgin.”
“Definitely true.” Jake sips his beer, watching Heath thoughtfully. After a few seconds, he tips his bottle towards Heath and asks, “But we’re only talking guys here, right? I mean, you’ve been with girls, haven’t you?”
Jake actually looks concerned and Heath nods quickly, not wanting to seem like more of a pathetic loser than he already is. “Yeah, sure… I mean, I’ve dated lots of girls,” he mutters, and somehow it doesn’t sound nearly as convincing as it had in his head.
“Dated doesn’t mean the same thing as fucked,” Jake points out the obvious.
Heath forks up more peppers and onions, eyes focused firmly on his task. “I know that.”
Jake clears his throat and Heath can feel the next question like it’s a live thing about to slither into their presence. He isn’t sure why this matters to Jake. Maybe he’s just making conversation to pass the time.
“So when was the last time you actually slept with a girl?”
Heath shrugs, lasered in on loading the enchiladas like it’s brain surgery. “I don’t know. Coupla years maybe.”
Jake’s mouth falls open a little at that admission. Heath can see it out of the corner of his eye. “Jesus, dude! And that wasn’t a huge fuckin’ clue that something was wrong?”
“You mean that I was gay?”
“Uhhh… yeah. Seriously, man, you’re like every woman’s wet dream. Nice, good-looking, good job. Something’s gotta be wrong if the only action your dick is gettin’ for two solid years is self-service.”
“Maybe I just didn’t want to know, you know? At the time, I told myself I was too busy to deal with a relationship, which was true, and I didn’t want to be the guy who fucked girls and then disappeared. It’s not like I was dyin’ for it and not gettin’ any. I just didn’t really care, so I didn’t worry about it.”
“So what - you dated chicks until they wanted sex, and then you disappeared?”
Heath thinks for a second, then nods. “Yeah, I guess that’s pretty much how it went down.” He folds up the last enchilada, reaches for the can of red sauce.
“Huh. So how’d that work out for you?” Jake asks, draining the last of his beer.
“Not so good, really. The last girl I dated was the third one to suggest maybe I was batting for the wrong team. I met you right after that and decided to find out.” He points at Jake’s bottle. “I’m switching to wine. Which do you want?”
“I’ll stick with this.” Jake slides over the empty and Heath nods towards the fridge for him to help himself. “So. Are we still testing the theory or what?”
Heath feels a little rush of heat through his body at the we, which is completely ridiculous. “Nope. I think you’ve got me convinced.”
Jake grins, eases up next to Heath, looking sexy as hell in Heath’s clothes and his kitchen and his house. “Cool. Glad I could help.”
Heath swallows hard. “Yeah. Me too. I guess.” The food’s ready to go in the oven. He wasn’t paying that much attention, but all the bowls of ingredients are empty, and he’s pretty sure Jake didn’t eat them all. Hopefully it’ll at least be edible.
“What’s that s’posed to mean? Don’t you want a chance to find somebody you can really be with, body and soul?” Jake’s standing close, head cocked to the side studying him. His blue eyes are almost grey looking in the soft light of the kitchen, and his stubble’s dark and rough against his pale skin. He looks so young, but then there’s his eyes, which are timeless, and Heath feels easy with him in a way he’s never been with anyone else, not even Anne. It’s good, but it scares the fuck out of him too.
“Really, I don’t know what I want except to figure myself out. Personally, I’ve never cared about getting married or living with anybody. My family’s pushed it, but I’ve been fine on my own. I don’t see any reason that should change now, especially since it’ll make life a thousand times more awkward.” He sticks the casserole dish in the oven, then pulls a bottle of wine from the rack at the end of the island.
“Maybe because you might actually find the right person, now you know where to look. And it doesn’t have to be awkward. Just tell people to fuck off if they don’t like your lifestyle.”
“That’s not always an option.” Heath gouges the corkscrew into the foil and rips it off. He’s been drinking since breakfast, not slamming them back or anything, just slow and steady, but still, he shouldn’t drink anymore. He’s not in the mood to be smart tonight, though, and it’s not likely he’ll have to get up for work in the morning. He can hear the ice falling, click click click outside the windows. The T.V. people mentioned possible power outages if it keeps up for long. He hopes the food will get done before that happens.
“And besides, so far I’ve looked in bars, which is where you’re supposed to find people, and I’ve found you and one other guy who’d probably shove me into traffic if he got half a chance. I’m not holding my breath waiting for Mr. Right.”
If Jake is the least bit interested in the fact that he got some action with another guy, he doesn’t let on at all. “Dude. You’ve only been gay for like a month. Give it a chance. Besides, you hook up with people you find in bars. You don’t marry them.”
“Great. So maybe someday I’ll meet a nice lawyer at a convention and we’ll settle down, adopt some dogs from the animal shelter and host cool dinner parties. As long as I don’t meet him in the hotel bar, huh?”
Heath can hear the bitterness in his voice, but maybe Jake can’t since they don’t know each other like at all. He clinks his glass of wine against Jake’s bottle, then waves it towards the sofa. Jake pushes off the island and they start moving that way. “So, what about you,” Heath asks as he flops down on one end, totally over being the sole focus of the conversation. He turns to face Jake, puts his feet on the cushion between them. “You ever think about settling down?”
Jake laughs, and the edge is back in his voice, which Heath notices right away. “Uh… no, dude. I’m a hooker. That’s pretty much the opposite of settling down.”
“So what? Is this your life calling or just a way to make ends meet till you find something more lucrative and less illegal?”
Jake tips his head and eyes him curiously. He’s all stretched out on the other end of the couch and Heath wants to be down there with him, but he’s all balled up inside. Conversation’s good enough for now, maybe even better if Jake’ll keep talking.
“You get pretty hung up on legalities, don’t you?”
“I’m a lawyer. It’s what I get paid to do.” He pokes Jake’s thigh with his toe. “Plus, I could get fired for this, you know, and that would suck.”
“So… why didn’t you make a better play for that other guy you found? Hard to believe he could be worse baggage than me.”
Heath takes a second to high-five himself that Jake did catch that part of the conversation, then gets a picture in his head of Matt on the other end of his couch instead of Jake. The way it makes him feel inside - squirmy, uncomfortable, wrong - is Jake’s answer, but Heath doesn’t give it, just shrugs and says, “Ehh… he was a nice guy. But it’s too early. I’m not ready to deal with that yet.”
A move on TV catches Jake’s eye - they’re showing game highlights for the umpteenth time - and when he looks interested, Heath grabs the remote and cranks up the volume, willing to give the serious stuff a rest for a while. “You catch the game?”
Jake glances at him for a second, then back at the screen, props his feet on the coffee table and settles deeper in the couch. “Just the second quarter. Looked like it was gonna be a good one.”
“Yeah, man, you missed it. Kobe was out of control today.” The scene changes to a play from the first quarter. “Watch this shot! It’s unbelievable the shit this guy can do with a basketball.”
“Christ, I can’t believe he made that!” Jake says as they watch Kobe Bryant sail a quarter of the court length to make an impossible layup. The talk shifts easily from their separate, fucked-up lives to basketball, and Heath lets himself get caught up in the moment… easy, uncomplicated conversation with someone who makes him feel safe and dangerous all at the same time, hungry for things he never even thought of before and which feel as undoable as the moves Kobe makes on the court.
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