Page 60 of Hush

“Send me those pics?”

“Of course.”

“There’s a café I want to take you to. For dinner.” Mike squinted at him after they left Rock Creek Park and were heading back to Tom’s place. “It’s a gay place, though. Big rainbow flag, heart of the gayborhood. So I just want to check with you first. If you don’t want to go, I understand.”

Going to dinner at a gay café with another man. If he was seen, the rumors would start. Questions would fly.

But, if he did this, really did this—lived his life, continued dating Mike, found happiness—the truth would come out eventually. Why wait? Why delay the inevitable? A slow start would be the best way, anyway. Slow, test the waters.

“I do want to go. With you.” He smiled. “Tonight.”

Mike beamed.

They dropped Etta Mae off. She drank a gallon of water and put herself to bed, flopping onto the couch as Tom took Mike upstairs to the master suite. He let Mike freshen up while he changed shirts, borrowing one of Tom’s larger ones. Etta Mae had slobbered him during the last part of the walk.

Having Mike in his bedroom made him squirm in the worst possible way. What if they said screw it to going out? What if Mike peeled off his clothes? What if he dropped to his knees in front of Mike, right here, right now?

What if he was no good, after so long?

Mike was just as unsettled as he was, he could tell. They thundered downstairs, Mike’s eyes darting away from Tom’s, and then they headed for the café. Mike kept his hands to himself the whole walk there.

As promised, the café was in the heart of the gayborhood. Couples crowded the streets, men and men and women and women walking together. The cafés and bars and patios were full of diners and laughter. Like before, at the Tap Room last weekend, a combined sense of happiness and jealousy poured over him.

But, he didn’t have to be jealous. Not anymore. Mike was walking beside him. He was going to dinner with Mike.

A rainbow flag hung over the purple-painted door, and Mike smiled and answered the host’s exuberant greeting with a grin. The host kissed Mike’s cheeks, looked Tom up and down, gave Mike a not-subtle-at-all thumbs-up, and then led them to a corner table on the patio.

“Eric is a character.” Mike was blushing.

“That was sweet.” Mike obviously came here a lot. Eric knew him well, and was a fan of Mike’s. Was that a stamp of approval, then? “What’s good here?”

They shared tapas and then seared tuna strips, chicken skewers and kebabs. The menu was eclectic, the drinks even more so. No plain margarita in sight. He settled for a fancy-sounding pear and honey Martini, and Mike got a peach whiskey on the rocks. Their feet tangled beneath the table, and by the end of dinner, Tom had his hand on Mike’s leg. Mike rested his hand on top, and they finished their drinks with dopey smiles and soft eyes. Eric, who served them personally, cooed as he brought Mike the bill.

Would they go back to his place and… Was tonight the night? Would he pull Mike upstairs, back into his bedroom? It felt good, felt right. He wanted Mike, so badly. He was ready. They were ready.

He wanted to make love to Mike.

He dug his fingers into Mike’s thigh, scraped his nails over Mike’s jeans. Mike’s eyes shot to his, burning.

They paid, but on the way out, Mike pulled him off to the side, pressed him against the wall, and kissed him breathless. Eric whistled, and then let them be, steering others away from their dark corner.

“Mike…” Tom grabbed his waist, pulled him close. Rubbed his crotch against Mike’s.

Mike kept kissing him, dropping kisses to his cheeks, his chin, his nose. He surrounded Tom, his arms pinning him on either side of his head. “You’re not making this easy.”

“Making what easy?”

“I want to be good.”

Tom rolled his hips into Mike’s. “I don’t want you to be good.”

“Damn it…” Mike cupped his face and leaned in, capturing his lips again.

Eric started commenting loudly that some people should get a room or put out a jar to collect money. Mike seemed to come back to himself, and he flushed a deep maroon as he steered Tom out of the café.

They both walked back to Tom’s place with their hands in their pockets, sneaking smiles and giggles. He felt like a teenager who had sneaked out of his house, a sixteen-year-old pushing the limits of his freedom and responsibility. He felt free.

He imagined making love to Mike with every step. What would it be like? Feeling Mike’s body. Feeling another man inside him again. His nerves were on fire, already strung out at just the thought, the fantasy.