Tell Me It's Real(124)

“And I wonder why you… what?” I asked Vince.

He watched me for a moment before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. Not right now.” His face went blank again, and I hated it. I hated the look on his face, and I hated not touching him when he was right in front of me. I hated feeling like I wasn’t good enough to be there to help him, like he didn’t think I could handle the shit he was going through.

“Why didn’t you just tell me about your mom?” I asked him quietly, cringing as I yet again made it about me without meaning to. I began to look for a way to make my exit.

His mouth thinned. “Not now, Paul. Please, just go. I can’t do this right now. I can’t focus on you and the rest of this shit at the same time. I just can’t.”

I nodded, but anger flared dangerously. “I see.” I wasn’t able to keep it from my face.

His eyes softened slightly. “It’s not… it’s not like that. I just… it’s not like that.”

“I don’t know how else it could be like,” I said, my voice hardening. “Obviously you don’t want me here, for whatever reason. You don’t think I can handle your shit. You don’t trust me enough to let me help you. But then, you’ve only known me a week, so I guess I can’t blame you.”

He took a step toward me, raising his hand. But then he stopped and dropped it back down to his side.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think I get it. I’m sorry about your mom, Vince. I hope you’ll be okay. I really do. You know where I am if you need me.”

I turned and walked away.

I could hear Darren’s angry voice as he snapped at Vince, but I didn’t hear what he said. My face was burning and I needed to get out of his apartment. The entire time the awkwardness was taking place, I kept thinking how it was just the day before when he’d been above me, thrusting into me, a look on his face that suggested he’d found the only place that he ever wanted to be. It’s funny, really, how quickly things can change. A week ago, I didn’t even know his fucking name. A week ago, I was plain, boring, ordinary, bland Paul.

I envied that Paul. That Paul didn’t have anything in his heart that would have allowed it to break. That Paul was still blissfully unaware that opening up meant getting punched in the gut.

I thought about slamming the door behind me, but hell, I’m not that melodramatic, even if I’d already sunk down into the cliché that I was so desperate to avoid. You know the one: toward the final act when everything should be peachy and rosy but instead comes crashing down for a stupid reason that sounds really trite but hurts like a fucking bitch anyway.

So I just shut the door quietly, hearing Darren’s voice get louder before it got cut off.

It was hot outside, and I took a deep breath, taking in that heat. I rested my back against the door for a minute, trying to clear my head. Once I was sure I could walk without falling down, I moved toward my car. But I didn’t make it.

“Paul!”

I turned.

Darren was jogging toward me. For a second, I thought he was going to have his revenge for the way I sucker-punched him in the mouth, and I frantically looked around for any kind of weapon I could use to defend myself. But I was standing on the only patch of grass that must have existed in the state of Arizona, and I didn’t think grass stains were an effective defense, so I prepared myself to get my ass beat.

“You may take my life,” I sputtered at him as he approached, “but you’ll never take my freedom!”

He arched an eyebrow as he stopped a couple of feet away. “Did you just quote Braveheart at me?”

“Of course not,” I scoffed, even though I sort of did. “I’m sorry I punched your face.”

He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even split my lip, Paul. It wasn’t that bad.”

“I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“Now you’re quoting Michael Jackson? What the hell did you smoke on the way over?”

Aha! Another chance! “Your dad’s pole,” I snarled at him. Then I winced. “That doesn’t work anymore considering your dad is Vince’s dad and the mayor of Tucson and has conservative evil running through his veins. No offense.”

“None taken? I think?”

“But, man, that must have really stuck in his craw to find out he had two gay sons.”

“Stuck in his craw? What are you, a steamboat captain?”

I grinned, forgetting for a moment that Vince was shut up in his apartment and that I was in the presence of the Homo Jock King. “No, but wouldn’t that be awesome? I’d wear a bow tie and have fancy facial hair and everything.”