Page 14 of Coming Clean

Jeremy

“ W hat the hell are you wearing?” I asked when David sauntered into the kitchen wearing a neon orange sweatshirt, black jeans that might as well have been leggings, yellow high-top sneakers, and a plaid fluorescent beret that I could have lived my whole life without seeing.

It looked like a packet of highlighters had exploded, and David had rolled in the detritus.

“I’m going to eighties night later. I brought you a sweatshirt so you can join me.”

I couldn’t stop staring. “You look gayer than a rainbow unicorn.”

“Women love this shit.” David twirled around, showing off the ridiculous outfit.

I snorted. “On gay guys or when it was 1986, and I am not wearing a neon sweatshirt.” The green garment in David’s hands was burning my retinas.

David stuck out his lip.

“I’m not going to eighties night, so don’t worry, I won’t hamper you.”

David gave me a mock glare. “How can I fix your social life if you won’t work with me?”

“As it happens, I have other plans tonight, and—” I paused. Was I really going to admit to David what I was doing? “I need your help.”

“Seriously? You never ask for my help unless you’re really desperate. At least I know it’s nothing to do with sitting around reading dusty old books.”

I scowled. “Don’t you dare mock me.” David was irritating me already, and I hadn’t even told him about Connor yet.

David’s expression brightened. “Oh my God! You’ve found a man, haven’t you?”

“Please don’t.”

David dropped the sweatshirt onto the counter and settled on a stool. “What’s wrong?” His tone was more serious now, but that was subject to change at any second.

“It’s Connor,” I confessed.

David narrowed his eyes. “The hot Marine? The one who’s cleaning your house?” He glanced around. “He’s doing a damn fine job, by the way.”

"Yes, but he?—”

“Did he give you shit? I’ll?—”

I held up a hand. “No. It’s not like that. It’s?—”

“No way! Connor’s your new man?”

“Not exactly. We were talking, and he brought up some of the crap he went through in the Marines. He looked sad, so I… I tried to comfort him.”

“Like with your dick?”

I failed to suppress my laughter. How could David be such an inappropriate ass and still entertain me? “By saying something nice and putting a hand on his shoulder. I thought he might get pissed off. Instead, he almost kissed me. At least, I think he did.”

David studied me for a few moments. “I’m not going to ask for details on that. I really want to, but I’m not. What happened after he didn’t quite kiss you?”

I sighed. “He ran. Literally. He left so fast that he forgot his bag of cleaning supplies.”

“And this is what you want advice about? Connor?”

I nodded. “I want him.”

“Let me get this straight—no pun intended. You want me to help you get together with a former Marine—you’ve never liked military guys, just in case you’ve forgotten—who’s in the closet and freaks out even when he doesn’t kiss you?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Jer.” David's disappointment was palpable.

“I didn’t think you’d approve, but?—”

“Look, come with me tonight. There’ll be plenty of hot ass at eighties night. Find a man to help you forget about Mr. Disaster-Waiting-To-Happen.”

Typical David. It was all about a piece of ass to him. “Connor isn’t just some random hot guy.”

David goggled at me. “Holy fuck, you’ve fallen for him!”

“He’s not my usual type; you’re right about that. And clearly, he’s not comfortable with whatever is going on with us, but…” What could I say to justify myself? I wasn’t even sure why this mattered so much.

“Oh, Jeremy, what am I going to do with you? I’ve been saying you need to get laid for ages, but this? Are you sure?”

I took a slow, deep breath. “I am.” I was sure I was an idiot who was going to get his heart broken. “At least it’ll be fodder for some fantastically depressing break-up poetry.”

David scowled. “That’s not funny. And why does poetry have to all be depressing anyway?”

“It doesn’t.”

David raised his brow. “Name some cheerful poetry.”

“Dr. Seuss.”

David started to say something. He closed his mouth. Then he finally responded with, “Fine, you got me there. I was, however, referring to poetry for adults.”

“Must we divide literature in such an ageist fashion?” I asked.

David simply flipped me off.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

David shook his head. “This feels way too much like high school.”

“You mean when I was trying to like girls, and you were trying to set me up with men because for some reason you thought having a gay friend was cool?”

David gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve told you a million times, it’s a great dating technique. Girls love gay guys.”

“Yes, but they don’t fuck them.”

David seemed to consider that. “Mostly true, but… You’re really going after a straight guy?”

“He’s not straight,” I insisted. “No straight guy looks at another man the way he looked at me. Can you just trust me not to be an idiot?”

“In most areas, yes. In this, not so much. I mean seriously, a Marine? It could only be more clichéd if he were a cowboy.”

Why couldn’t David just take my word for it? “It doesn’t have anything to do with his being a Marine.”

“Right. He got those abs by just lying around.”

“Damn it, David.” I wanted to throttle him.

“What I meant about this being like high school is that after you gave up on the girl thing, you started crushing on all the wrong boys.”

I thought about Tony. David was right about how poor my choice of romantic obsessions had been back then. “I was an idiot back then. It was high school.”

“You really want my help?”

I scowled at him. “I’m not sure now.”

“You know I’ll help no matter what I think of your plans, but I thought you hated all that military shit.”

“I don’t hate the military. I hate government decisions that send our military into places where we are going to do more harm than?—”

“Blah, blah, blah. I’ll help you, okay? And I’ll be here to get drunk and eat chicken with you if this goes all to shit.”

“Thanks.” I could always count on David, even when he was being an ass.

“You’re not going to protest? No declaration that this relationship will last forever?”

“No. We’re really not in high school anymore. Maybe I just want a hot fling.”

“If you were into casual fucks, you wouldn’t sit home writing love poems all weekend,” David insisted. "You’d be out there getting blown in the bathroom like a proper gay guy.”

“Seriously, where do you get this stuff from?”

“Movies?”

“What sort of movies are you watching?” Most of the films I had watched with gay men were depressing as hell and too artsy to involve bathroom-stall fucks.

David ignored me. “Have you got a plan?”

“I thought I’d return Connor’s supplies, since I don’t know if he’ll come back for them or send someone else. I don’t know where he lives, but I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find that out.”

“Then he’ll see you on his doorstep, realize how much he wants you, drag you inside, and fuck your brains out?”

“Umm… something like that.” Wow. This was a stupid move.

David gave me a once-over. “You’re going to need a different outfit.”

“I wasn’t planning on going over there tonight.”

“He might send someone to pick up his bag early tomorrow, and then you wouldn’t have a plan at all. It’s tonight or never.”

Was David trying to get me to chicken out? “Fine, but I would’ve thought you’d want me to put this off.”

David grinned. “Hell, no. I gave you my opinion and you ignored it. So now I’m going to tell you how to do this right.”

Oh dear God, what had I gotten myself into?

“This outfit is ridiculous. I look like?—”

“A sexy poet,” David said.

I looked in the mirror again and shook my head in disgust. “No one dresses like this. Not poets, not anybody.”

“I beg to differ. Haven’t you looked around at all those readings and lectures you’ve dragged—I mean, taken me to?”

I tried to protest, but David talked over me. “What about that little waif at that atrocious student thing I went to last month?”

“That kid was fifteen or so, and I don’t think he’d eaten in weeks. I do not want to look like a starving teenager.”

David squinted and studied me. “You look artistic, not starved.”

“I look like an idiot.”

“These are your clothes,” David pointed out.

“This shirt is from a pirate costume. Costume as in Halloween party, not intended for casually dropping by a friend’s apartment.”

“Pirates are hot though, right?”

“In movies.” The shirt was billowy and ridiculous. Instead of buttons, it had a leather tie at the neckline. David insisted on pairing it with black jeans and a red belt that must have been stuck into my wardrobe by a vicious enemy, or else it had belonged to Silas the Asshole.

David had also pulled out black boots I had purchased on a dare in college and worn only once in recent years—with the pirate costume to a Halloween party. I supposed I should be glad David hadn’t found the scarf and fake earrings.

I looked in the mirror and shuddered. “I look like an aging rent boy going to a costume party.”

David ignored me as he rooted through my bathroom drawers. “Don’t you have any eyeliner in here?”

“Have you ever seen me wear eyeliner?”

David dismissed me with a wave. “Don’t bitch. I was just hopeful.”

“I’m not wearing eyeliner or this get-up.”

“Fine. Take off the shirt and just wear something tight.” He pulled out another relic from my closet, a t-shirt that said “What, with my tongue in your tail?” from when I was in a production of Taming of the Shrew in college. Connor would love it.

“Okay, I’ll wear that,” I said as I bent down to pull off the boots.

“No, the boots stay.”

I glanced in the mirror. “I don’t even look like myself.”

“You look hot.”

I sighed. Did I? I wasn’t sure anymore. Hot or ridiculous? Where was the line? “Fine. You win.”

“Damn right.” David eyed my hair critically.

“No.” Connor liked my hair just as it was. “This is as far as I’m going with my appearance. What I need to know now is what the hell to do when I get there.”

“You’re asking me for help in seducing a man?” David asked.

I frowned at my reflection in the mirror. This whole thing was pathetic. I ought to be too ashamed to go through with it. “You’re straight. He’s straight-ish. What would make you want to be with a man?”

David batted his lashes. “Honey, if you didn’t, nothing would.”

I huffed. “I never tried to?—”

“I know you never tried to turn me, but if all the time I’ve spent with you hasn’t made me the least bit curious…”

“I’m not your type.”

David slid his gaze up and down my body. “Nope, not nearly curvy enough.”

We both laughed, then David said, “You told me he wasn’t straight.”

“He’s not, but… I don’t know. This is crazy, isn’t it?”

David didn’t answer my question. “Go return his stuff. If nothing happens, call me, and we’ll do eighties night to take your mind off it.”

“No, I’ll just come back here and?—”

“Wallow in pity? Nope. Call me. I’m serious.”

“All right.”

David held out his hand for a fist bump, and I obliged him. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m getting out of here.”