Page 6 of Pages of My Heart

Charlie

Charlie puffs on his third Lucky Strike as he stands outside Wilson Junior College, shuffling nervously from one foot to the other.

It’s Wednesday afternoon, just after five o’clock on a surprisingly warm day.

Jimmy let him take off early as business was slow, and somehow he ended up here.

Waiting. His palms are perspiring, and the back of his shirt is damp with sweat, clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

As for his heart—it hasn’t stopped its relentless gallop since Saturday night. Since meeting him. Since Thomas.

Going to that club was reckless enough, but what he did with Thomas—taking him down to the docks, telling him about his life, kissing him like that—it was downright dangerous. Charlie wonders if he’s lost all sense of reason.

Since parting ways with Thomas, he’s thought of nothing else for four straight days.

It’s like Thomas O’Reilly has slipped under his skin and taken control of all his faculties.

Charlie’s first thoughts upon waking each morning are of the gorgeous redhead.

As he works with his head under the hood of a car all day, his mind concocts scenarios—silly romantic ones where they share a secret kiss in the back of a dark theater or drink beer while they shoot pool.

And then there are the filthy thoughts that have him desperately seeking release in the dead of night.

Thomas O’Reilly is stripping him of his fortitude.

Thomas O’Reilly is the manifestation of every unspoken desire he has spent years convincing himself he didn’t want, let alone need.

Thomas O’Reilly is Charlie’s Pandora’s box, and every part of his being—his body, this soul, and his lonely, yearning heart—is urging him to open it.

His father’s constant name calling throughout his youth—sissy, queer boy, pansy—has left more lasting damage than all the bruises and broken bones combined.

Charlie hates who he is, but on Saturday night, the soulful green eyes of the beautiful redhead made him feel for the first time like maybe he was worth something.

He’s not stupid. He knows he can’t have Thomas.

Knows he can’t experience love with another man.

But just for today, he wants to push that knowledge aside.

Dropping his cigarette, he extinguishes it with a twist of his foot and considers how long he should wait before giving up this crazy notion and heading home.

“Charlie?”

His head snaps up at the sound of Thomas’s voice, eyes locking with those of the boy who after one night has him questioning everything his father has ever told him.

Thomas is tall and broad, with high cheekbones and smooth alabaster skin.

He still looks boyish, but it is plain to see what sort of man he will mature into.

Many people don’t like redheads, but Charlie is captivated by Thomas’s bright crop of hair, and finds himself daydreaming about what his long red lashes and the sprinkling of freckles across his nose might look like under the bright summer sun.

“What are you doing here?” Thomas asks, walking toward him with a wide smile that immediately lights up their dull surroundings.

Charlie holds out his hand and Thomas takes it. They shake but mostly just hold on to each other, Thomas’s touch igniting images in Charlie’s mind of their too brief time together at the docks, images that make Charlie’s world seem to suddenly turn from black and white to brilliant Technicolor.

“Was passing by and thought I’d stop for a smoke on the chance you might be here.” Charlie reluctantly pulls his hand away and steps back to put a more respectable distance between them. What he imagines is placing his hand behind Thomas’s neck and pulling him down into a heated kiss.

“Well, you chanced right.” Thomas leans forward a little and drops his voice to a whisper. “And I’m so glad you did. I’ve been thinking about you.”

Charlie feels a blush creeping up his neck, and he drops his chin down, keen to hide it. “You have, huh? Me, too.” He risks a glance at Thomas’s face and is rewarded with another stunning smile, nearly blinding in its intensity.

“Do you have some place you need to be? We could go for a soda or a milkshake or something?”

Charlie can’t stop the grin spreading across his own face. “Yeah, I’d enjoy a cold drink. Did a lot of heavy lifting at work today.”

Thomas pats him on the shoulder. “Let’s go then. There’s a diner not too far from here.”

Once they’re seated at a corner table a short while later with two glasses of soda and a little privacy, Charlie relaxes.

There is nothing untoward happening—just two friends having a drink after work like everyone else.

And the noise from the open kitchen and the other patrons is loud enough that no one will hear their conversation.

“This is such a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to see you today.” Thomas takes a little sip from his cherry cola and stares at him over the rim of his glass. “Will you still go to the club on Saturday?”

Charlie sighs, knowing the odds are stacked against it.

“If I can sneak away, sure,” he says finally.

“But it’ll be hard two weeks in a row. Last Saturday I told Ruthie I had to help my brother, but I can’t use that excuse again.

” Charlie watches the smile fall from Thomas’s face and feels like a cad.

“Is Ruthie your girl?”

“Fiancée.” Charlie coughs and glances away, unable to meet Thomas’s gaze. “Gettin’ married soon.”

There’s no point in lying. Ruthie is a nice girl, and he won’t do any better. And it’s not like there’s any alternative—he will have to marry someday, so it may as well be a girl whose company he enjoys.

When Thomas’s leg brushes against his under the table, Charlie jerks away on instinct, but then slowly he inches his foot back until they are touching. He scans the diner surreptitiously, but no one is paying them any mind.

“Charlie.” Thomas speaks loudly, trying to recapture his attention. “You can’t do that.” He lowers his voice to a harsh whisper, expression imploring. “You can’t marry a woman.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he pushes against Thomas’s leg, relishing the contact. When he opens them again, he is still faced with Thomas’s objection.

“I have to do it, Thomas, and someday soon, you will too. There’s no other way. Men like us . . .” Charlie swallows, struggling to push on. He tries again. “Men like us need to learn how to fit in. Make the most of the situation.”

“What if I don’t want to fit in? I thought I could get this out of my system, but not now.” Thomas slides his hand across the table until their pinky fingers lightly brush. “Not now that I’ve met you.”

Charlie pulls away and sits back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. His finger burns from Thomas’s graze.

“Red, you’ve got to fit in. You’ve got to find a girl and start a family.

If you don’t, if you indulge this”—his eyes flick toward a passing waitress and he waits until she is out of earshot—“this sickness, you’ll end up in prison, or worse.

You could end up fuckin’ dead. It’s fine to go to the club sometimes and forget everything for a night.

But even that’s dangerous. That place has been raided before—you know that, right? ”

Thomas sets his jaw and doesn’t answer, and Charlie shuffles in his seat, aware he’s frustrated.

Angry even. But he isn’t sure why or exactly at what.

Thomas’s naivety? The devil inside him? The whole godforsaken world?

Everything about Thomas feels undeniably right, and yet everything around Charlie says it’s wrong.

That he’s wrong. That what he feels for Thomas is wrong.

Charlie stands abruptly, his chair scraping loudly on the linoleum floor. Thomas is on his feet almost immediately, eyes widening with concern.

“I’ve gotta get outta here,” Charlie says, throwing a few coins down next to their largely untouched drinks. “I need some fresh air.”

He takes off, the little bell above the door tinkling as he strides out of the diner and heads down the road.

Thomas is close behind, the sounds of his steps both determined and persistent.

Charlie shouldn’t have been so harsh, shouldn’t have lost his cool.

All he wanted was to see Thomas one more time, and he’s screwed it all up.

When he reaches a narrow alleyway, he turns up it and pushes on, away from the busy street. It comes to a dead end, making it secluded and absent of prying eyes. He stops and waits. When Thomas comes to a rest behind him moments later, he turns.

“I’m sorry. I got a temper like my pops.”

“It’s all right. I’m sorry too. I guess I’m just . . .” Thomas sighs, bowing his head. He looks deflated, like all his joyful innocence has rushed out of him on a single breath. “I guess I’m just jealous.”

Glancing up the alley to be sure no one is around, Charlie reaches out and gently lifts Thomas’s chin, forcing the redhead to look at him.

“Don’t be. I’ll try to come on Saturday night. I promise. But after I get hitched . . . well, it just wouldn’t be right to continue.”

“But Charlie . . .”

Thomas’s disappointment is plain in the slouch of his shoulders and the dullness of his voice.

And Charlie is battling his own demons. Until last Saturday, he had accepted his fate and was ready to settle down into a loveless marriage.

Now, he’s filled with an inner conflict he fears he doesn’t have the strength to bear.

He wants Thomas more than any man should want another.

It’s destructive and untenable—a force that frightens him like no other, not even his old man.

Grabbing Thomas, he drags him into a narrow alcove, shrouding them in darkness.

He pushes Thomas against the wall and crashes their lips together.

The pleasure that bursts forth from his chest is instant and all-consuming, and he moans brokenly as Thomas’s arms envelop him.

The kiss is greedy and reckless, their lips and tongues fighting for what they need.

Charlie cannot comprehend the fever that Thomas ignites inside of him.

“Charlie, please,” Thomas pants into his mouth.

Throwing away all sense, he grabs at Thomas’s belt, scrambling to get it undone.

Thomas’s breath shudders when Charlie slides his hand down into the redhead’s briefs, taking him in hand.

Thomas is already erect, his cock long and thick and leaking at the tip.

Charlie’s filthy mind wants to take it into his mouth, to taste it and rub his face against the hardness.

Instead, he presses his mouth back to Thomas’s and begins stroking him.

Within seconds, Thomas is frantically trying to get at Charlie’s belt too.

“No, Red,” he says. “It’s already too risky. Just let me finish you.”

“Shh, shh.” Thomas cups Charlie’s face and gazes down at him with hooded eyes. “We can. Just keep quiet. Please, Charlie.”

Thomas’s hands return to Charlie’s belt and he unbuttons his pants, pushing both pants and briefs down to Charlie’s thighs so he’s completely exposed.

Thomas circles his thumb around the head of his shaft, spreading the evidence of his lust over the sensitive tip.

Charlie’s knees threaten to give out, but Thomas slips his other hand around his waist and holds him up.

Thomas kisses him gently, tenderly, the stroke of his hand matching that of his tongue, both slow and teasing. Charlie is so enamored that he almost forgets he wants to pleasure Thomas too.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, pushing at Thomas’s clothes.

They rest their foreheads together, and Charlie looks down at their nakedness, a desperation overtaking him. They work each other’s length, their breaths coming faster and faster as their climaxes approach.

“Oh Thomas, fuck—it feels so good,” he groans, completely unashamed and tumbling toward release.

“Charlie, I can’t stop it. I can’t.”

The moment he feels Thomas’s climax, he throws his arms around the redhead’s neck and kisses him madly. Then he releases too, clinging to Thomas, his body shaking violently.

Charlie has had one other man bring him to orgasm like this before, and once he let an old queen at the club use his mouth on him.

But for all his bravado in front of Thomas, that is the extent of his sexual experiences with men.

Regardless, he knows nothing will ever compare to the way Thomas O’Reilly makes him feel.

His skin is feverish, his body thrumming with what can only be described as euphoria—his mind is free.

Thomas falls back against the brick wall, eyes closed and mouth open.

“Red, you all right?”

“That was amazing,” Thomas replies, eyes bright when he forces them open. “Incredible. You’re incredible,” he gushes, crowding back into Charlie’s space. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good, but we should hurry. We’ve risked too much already.”

They wipe themselves down as best they can and redress quickly. Charlie’s hands are shaking as he struggles to get his belt fastened.

“We should leave separately,” Charlie says, “so no one sees us coming outta the alley together.” He makes to leave, but big hands are holding firm to his hips.

“I never want to leave you, Charlie Miller.”

Charlie’s breath catches in his throat. Staring up into Thomas’s green eyes, brimming with affection, Charlie doesn’t know what to do with that. Rather than ruin the moment, he says, “I’ll see you Saturday at the club. Ten o’clock.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. Now go.”

Thomas cups his face with both hands and connects their lips, pressing firmly before pulling away and heading out of the alley. Charlie doesn’t dare watch him go for fear that he will chase after him. Instead, he leans against the wall and wraps his arms around himself.

At this moment, he only feels happiness, but he knows the darkness will soon creep back in and the reality of what he has done will take hold. But for now, he closes his eyes and catalogs every look, every kiss, and every touch.