Page 82 of Hurt

Grant couldn’t decide if he was sad or angry. Sad because he could see that Kurt felt that way and angry because he had the audacity to ask him to do that. Grant was the one person who knew what he had been going through, the person capable of helping him, and he didn’t want him to?

“I might consider it,” Grant said with a controlled tone. “If you can ask me while looking me in the eyes.”

Kurt looked at him, surprised.

“Can you look me in the eyes and ask me to give up on you?” He knew it wasn’t fair to ask, that he was pushing Kurt too far, but his heart couldn’t take it. All he wanted to do was hold the man until he realized how precious he was, show him just how amazing he was in his eyes.

Kurt swallowed and opened his mouth but seemed to stall under Grant’s intense gaze.

“Even if you could, it wouldn’t matter.”

Grant stood up, brushed off his jeans, and looked down at a silent Kurt. “You said you thought I was good at everything, but the truth is, I’m bad at many things—I’m a terrible liar, a worse cook, and I cannot use a computer to save my life.” He extended a hand to Kurt.

“And I am an absolute failure when it comes to leaving you. So, you should go ahead and take my hand. But even if you don’t, that’s okay. Because it’s always going to be here waiting for you.”

Kurt stared at that hand and tried to control his trembling limbs. “What if I don’t?” he asked shakily.

Grant shrugged. “I’ll be here.”

It was so simple. The way he said it—like this was some sort of cheesy romance movie where two perfect people were able to fall in love in a crowded bar. They saw each other and just knew, and all their little problems were completely solved by the end credits.

People like Kurt didn’t get happy endings. He wasn’t the guy who rode off into the sunset without looking back.

But he wanted to.

It was a horrifying realization. That pang in his heart was desire. The small kernel of hope that he thought he had buried so deep it would never reappear suddenly stuck its head out and flared to life. Like a weed growing in a crack in the sidewalk. Desperate for the sun with a stubborn refusal to die.

Maybe just this once, he could reach out and seize hope. Believe in something besides pain. That was probably too much to ask.

But he could believe in Grant. In the steadfastness of his hand and the gentleness in his eyes.

With the sunset fading behind the mesa, Kurt reached out a shaking hand and took Grant’s.

They rode back to the bar slowly. Neither one of them wanted to relinquish this strange tenuous feeling between them. A budding flame struggling to stay lit against the wind. The men were trying to shelter it as best they could, but it was flickering dangerously. Kurt pressed himself up against Grant and felt the solid strength there.

He didn’t watch the road this time. He closed his eyes and tried to siphon strength from the man in front of him. Like through the act of touch, he could pull some of Grant’s absolute belief in himself and in his feelings.

They were both disappointed when the motorcycle’s tires cut through the gravel. The bar was quiet and dark, the only light was coming from the cracked flood light on the roof.

Kurt slipped off the motorcycle more elegantly this time. Fiddling with his clothes, he lingered without knowing what to say.

He settled on, “Thank you.”

Grant grinned, his white teeth flashing against the darkness. “I should be saying that to you.” He ducked his head almost as if he was embarrassed. “I like spending time with you, Kurt.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he looked away. It was too much. Emotions Kurt didn’t know he was capable of feeling flooded his system. How could he feel like he was drowning but at the same time taking his first real breath of air? Butterflies danced in his stomach, and he was afraid if he opened his mouth, they might fly right out.

Even though he wasn’t looking at him, Grant was still smiling. He didn’t mind that Kurt was having trouble processing his emotions, or that he didn’t know what to say. He didn’tdemandanything from him. He never had. Everything had always been a question, an open end that Kurt could always back away from if he needed to.

The harsh light barely illuminated his face. Kurt knew what it looked like without having to see. He knew he was handsome, that his edges were softened with his pleasant smile and earnest eyes. He knew those lips could frown in the most vicious of ways, but also part and erupt in the most beautiful laughter he had ever heard. Those hands were slim and delicate, deadly but capable of so much gentleness it made his heart ache.

And his heart was aching. Like working out a new muscle, it was painful, but the rush of endorphins was begging for more. One more step out of the pain and darkness. Do one more thing to be better, to prove he was worth Grant’s faith.

He took a step. Then another one. They brought him back to Grant, still straddling the bike. Tentatively he took hold of the jacket, just feeling the rough fabric in his hands again had his heart flooding with fondness.

Lacking any grace, Kurt ducked down and gently pressed a kiss to Grant’s lips. He felt him gasp in surprise, lips parting ever so slightly. Holding ramrod still, Grant let Kurt control the kiss. Lightly brushing his quivering lips against Grants, he deepened it until there was real pressure between them.

Grant’s lips were soft, and his breathing was rough, exhalations from his nose tickling against Kurt’s face. He felt movement and opened his eyes to see Grant reaching for his face, only to stop himself and clench his hand. Like he wanted to hold him but wouldn’t because he was afraid of startling him.