Page 9

chapter nine

What in the world am I doing? My wife doesn’t love me, my church is failing, and now my best friend in the world is blackmailing me into being his boyfriend. Okay, maybe not blackmail, but it’s still uncomfortable. Platonic or not, the entire situation feels problematic, but there’s a small part of me that yearns for what Darren is offering me.

I pick my tightest pants, because Darren says he wants to look at my butt during the date he asked me to take him on. I should be running for the hills, yet, with this simple outfit selection, it feels like I’m surrendering.

Downstairs, I head through the kitchen, pausing at the vase of flowers I bought yesterday, hoping to bring a little life to our lifeless home. Pinks and purples and even a few oranges pop out in the stunning arrangement. The pink flowers remind me of Darren’s cheeks right when they start burning whenever I make him blush. It’s the most beautiful color I’ve ever seen, and I want Darren to have one, so I pluck out the tallest flower with the prettiest bloom.

Mal’s bedroom door is open, and I pause, leaning against the door frame. She looks up at me with a cocked eyebrow before closing the book in her lap and setting it on the bed.

“I take it the rose isn’t for me?”

I look down at the flower and blush. “It is if you want it.” The words feel like a test. A final push for us. For the happy couple we always hoped we’d be.

She shakes her head slowly. Almost mournfully. “No, Miles. I don’t think it’s ever been for me.”

I place the flower on the chest of drawers beside her door, then shove my hands into my pockets. “Was any of it real for you? I know we’ve had our issues, but we loved each other once, didn’t we?”

She shimmies over, patting the empty space next to her. I take the seat she’s offering, startling when she slides her hand in mine. “I do love you, but it’s not a romantic love, and I think if we’re both being brutally honest, it never has been.” She tightens her grip, smiling supportively at me. “Darren’s going to love the flower.”

“It feels like I’m cheating on you.” I inwardly cringe, adding, “And with a man.”

“It’s not ideal, I’ll give you that, but I’ve always known you were gay. I knew this was a possibility.” She squeezes my hand. “We’ve steadily been letting each other go for years. We’ve been sexually unsatisfied our entire adult lives.” Her grip tightens. “We’re basically virgins. I will not die a virgin, Miles Brooks, and I don’t expect you to, either. So go out there and enjoy yourself. If you decide to kiss, it’s fine by me. If you do more, I couldn’t care less. Just go out there and have fun.” She grabs her phone and lifts it to show me her screen. There’s a profile picture of a handsome man smiling out at the world. “I’ll be having fun with Javier. Did you know people can have sex on their phones now?” I arch an eyebrow, but she just shrugs it off. “Well, they can, and they will be from nine until eleven tonight, so don’t come down here crying over Darren Matthews while it’s happening.” Once I pick my jaw up off the floor, she eyes me up and down curiously. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I admit. Platonic or otherwise, I haven’t been on a date in decades. Now, I’m supposed to take my best friend on one? I stare down at her hand, now resting on my knee. I don’t ask permission, just latch on, weaving our fingers together, unable to look her in the eyes. “It’s a sin. Just because I don’t preach about it at church, that doesn’t make it any less of one.” It’s what has me worried, mostly. Going on this date is like abiding sin. Whatever Darren has or hasn’t done to me while I was sedated is between him and God. I bear no blame for it. But this thing—what he’s asking me to do—means making the active choice to sin. Yeah, I could wrap the situation in as much red tape I can pull out of my backside, playing it off as a platonic entanglement, but God knows my heart. He knows the way it always beats a bit faster when Dare’s around. Sin is sin, and this thing Darren’s asking of me is the biggest sin I’ll ever commit.

When I finally lift my gaze to meet Mal’s, she’s got her eyebrows scrunched together. “Your walk with God is yours alone. Personally, I haven’t walked with him since I was a kid.”

“What does that mean?”

“At the risk of making your head explode, I haven’t been a believer since I was young. None of it ever made much sense to me. Talking snakes. Burning bushes. The blatant misogyny. It’s terribly archaic. Somewhere along the way, I stopped believing. Then there's everything that happened in Guadalajara.”

“Not the Guadalajara story again” I say, sighing. If I have to listen to her blame an entire city for the sins of one rogue telemarketer again . . . Wait. Did she just say— “An atheist? Under this God-fearing roof?” I hop off the bed like the blanket is on fire. “And you didn’t think to tell me? I’m your husband, Mal.” I close my eyes and sigh. “Next, you’ll be telling me you voted blue in the last election.”

When she remains silent for far too long, I look up, horrified to see her smirking. “We may have lost the election, but we are still not going back.”

“Oh, Jesus of Nazareth,” I say, flinging my hands in the air. “On your knees. We need to pray about this. We have to beg God for forgiveness. I’m not going to have a left-leaning liberal—” My words end on a squeak when someone brushes against my butt. I turn to find Darren moving behind me.

Earlier, he headed back to his house to grab clothes for our date. I guess he must have let himself in through the attic, because otherwise I would have heard the door. Mal’s room is right beside it.

“You could have just used the front door,” I tell him.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He wraps an arm around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder like we’re a couple. It’s the most bizarre moment of my life so far.

“Now, back to the matter at hand. You voted blue, too, Miles.” Scratch that. Second most bizarre moment of my life so far.

I jerk away and glare at him. “I am a proud Republican.”

“Log cabin Republican, maybe,” Mal jokes, and surprisingly, Darren snickers along.

“What are you, best friends all of a sudden?” I ask. When I turn to scold him for it, Darren shakes his head like he knows me better than I’ll ever know myself.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but the stakes were far too high this election, so I dosed your coffee with Meadows’ medication before we went to the polls. The thing is, it’s not just a sleeping pill. It’s what our agency uses for uncooperative people. It’s just Benadryl and some herbs, but it works as a truth serum of sorts. You voted for the person your heart told you to vote for. That’s what you told me later that night.” A tear slips down his cheek, and he wipes it away, kissing his teary fingertip, whispering, “I’m sorry, Mamala. We all know it was rigged.” He looks up at me, his eyes misty and sentimental. “You held me as I wept for the future of our nation. Thank you for being there when I needed you.”

I don’t remember a word of what I said that night, but whatever it was, if it earned me another look like the one he’s giving me now, I’d do it again. If it’s down to politics, I’ll vote blue in every election for the rest of my life if it means more of him looking at me like this. The pure, raw admiration in his eyes is overwhelming.

I move toward the dresser, wanting to make that smile spread even wider, and grab the pretty flower for my pretty Dare.

“Miles,” Darren whispers when I turn to look at him, holding the flower, my cheeks burning. He’s got this amazed look in his eyes like he’s witnessing a miracle. “Is that for me?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “I guess it is.”

He walks toward me with hope radiating out of his eyes as he takes the flower, and he presses his forehead against mine.

“Are you ready?” I finally ask. “For the date?”

He slowly pulls away. “I can’t wait.”

Heat spreads through my cheeks that I can’t explain, and I clear my throat, looking away. “I thought we could have a picnic. Do you want to help me get the food together?” He slides his hand in mine, and I quickly pop it away. “Nope. We won’t be doing any of that.”

“We’ll see.”

I pull out of the driveway, gasping when Darren reaches across the truck’s front seat and squeezes my hand. I instinctively jerk away, but his grip tightens, locking me in place.

“Darren—”

“Please?”

Staring down at his hand, it feels like someone’s ripping away layers of wallpaper meant to mask the man underneath the persona he’s created. An awakening of sorts. I thought I’d finally overcome, but the longer Darren holds my hand, the less sure I feel.

Someone honks behind us. We’ve been at this stop sign for about three minutes now, because my Songs of Praise CD has skipped a track ahead while I was lost in Darren’s eyes.

Darren glares at the rearview mirror before rolling down the window and sticking his head out. The action places his entire butt on display. His gray slacks cling to his backside like a second skin. I can see the curve of his crack through the fabric, and I can’t stop a desperate, possessive growl from crawling out my throat. Thankfully, Darren doesn’t hear me. He’s too busy cussing at the man behind us to notice anything, so I let my eyes linger just a bit longer.

“Oh, I’ll give you something to choke on, alright!” Darren’s shrill voice screams, pulling me out of the moment. I blink a few times, and when I finally pry my eyes away from his butt, I realize he’s watching me as I watch him. He blushes. “We should go. He might shoot us if we hold him up much longer.”

With shaking hands, I take the wheel, staring straight ahead. “If anyone ever shot you, there wouldn’t be enough prayer in the world to stop me from killing him.” Darting my eyes in his direction, I rest my hand on the center of the bench seat and clear my throat before turning my attention back to the road ahead. He grips my hand gently, his fingers weaving perfectly with mine. We don’t really talk after that, just coast down Lavender Lane, refusing to let go.

When I pull into the church’s parking lot, he rips his hand away, and it feels like he’s taking part of me with him. I park in my designated spot, remove my seatbelt, and turn to face him. Darren is staring straight ahead, seething worse than he did when I told him I was taking Mal on vacation without him a few months ago.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Dare. I didn’t bring you here to pray.”

“Then why? Did you need God’s protection from the local queer? Are you afraid to be alone with me?”

“Just come inside with me. I promise, you’ll love it.”

He shakes his head, refusing to budge. When it becomes clear he’s not going to get out of the truck on his own, I hop out, walk around the truck, and yank his door open. His eyes follow my every move; first, when I reach across his lap and unbuckle his seatbelt, then when I swivel him around to face me, and finally, as I pick him up and place him on my hip. Leaning down, I grab the lunch I packed us in the kitchen after our talk with Mal.

“If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed,” I mutter, carrying him across the parking lot. Once we’re inside, he tells me I can put him down, but I just hold him even closer. Just in case he decides to do a runner, obviously.

We head behind the altar, into the small stairwell leading to the baptismal pool. Well, “baptismal pool” is downplaying it a bit. The pool we use for baptisms is actually a jetted hot tub Mal found on eBay. Energy bill be damned, Mal insists we keep it running at all times, just in case she decides she wants a late-night soak, so that means it should still be warm enough for me and Darren.

The room the tub is in isn’t much of a room at all. It’s just a small loft that looks out over the congregation through a retractable stained-glass window. The window between the chapel and pool is rolled up at the moment, casting pretty red light fractals through the small enclosure. The red light is coming from Jesus’ robe, so it almost feels like he’s blessing this moment, but that can’t be true. Jesus may not have ever mentioned homosexuality himself, but the Bible is very clear on the matter. My savior would never bless something with the potential to become my undoing. Darren hops down and picks up two towels from a small end table next to the hot tub and starts the task of unpacking picnic items. While he does, I turn the tub’s heat a little higher, wanting to get a good soak.

“Do you remember when we used to come up here? Back when we were kids,” he clarifies.

“I wasn’t a kid when you were a kid.” I test the water with my fingertips to make sure it’s still warm. It feels fantastic. I get a little nervous about stripping down to my skivvies in front of Dare, and he must notice, because he gets the ball rolling, lifting his shirt over his head.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “It’s just a hot tub. We used to do this all the time, and I never molested you then.” He smirks at me. “I may have masturbated to the memory of your shirtless chest, but that’s neither here nor there. Strip.”

I swallow thickly, nodding, my eyes probably bulging from his admission. Gosh. I know he’s already told me he’s done that to himself while picturing me, but it still makes my head feel like it’s spinning. No one ever notices me. I’ve never had girls or guys lining up around the block to get to me, but sometimes there’s a look in Darren’s eyes that makes me think he would. He stares at me like I’m a walking work of art. My fingers fumble with the tail of my shirt, but as hard as I try, I can’t force myself to take it off.

Darren steps in front of me, doing what I can’t when he pulls my shirt over my head. “This doesn’t have to be weird. It’s just you and me.” He unbuttons my jeans before reaching down and removing my socks and shoes, one foot at a time. When he pulls down my jeans, his eyes linger on my half-hard erection, and his tongue darts across his lips. Thankfully, he doesn’t take my underwear off. Darren stands in front of me wearing a pair of hot pink briefs that cling to his bulge, and I have to lean against the wall to stop myself from falling.

“Dare,” I whisper.

“It’s okay,” he promises, pressing a hand over my heart. “There’s nothing sordid about this.” He moves a step closer. “I’m not going to fuck you in a baptismal pool, Father Daddy.”

With anyone else, I’d be screaming “Blasphemy!” at the top of my lungs, but with Darren, I just chuckle, blushing as I say a quick prayer that God doesn’t strike us down. Darren turns and climbs into the hot tub, taking a seat in front of the stained-glass window, facing in my direction. I climb into the tub and sit opposite him so we’re face to face.

I reach behind me, grabbing one of the sandwiches from the table and handing it to him before collecting mine. At the time, egg salad sounded fine and dandy, but now, sitting in a steaming hot tub, I think I may have made an error in judgment. Darren doesn’t seem to care, because he shovels his down in four bites before pointing at my unopened sandwich. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

I shake my head, and Darren shrugs, grabbing the sandwich and inhaling it in three bites. He reaches over me and grabs a can of soda, his knee gently coming into contact with my throbbing erection. I’m hard and I didn’t even notice. I was too wrapped up in Darren. Just the sight of him like this makes all those walls I’ve put up feel like they’re not structurally sound in the slightest. All it’ll take is one strong gust—or one strong thrust—and they’ll come crumbling down.

I grind my cock against his shin, groaning. He places a finger under my chin and tugs until I’m looking at him. For a moment, I think he’s going to beg me to continue.

“Hey, Miles.” He’s staring down at me with a warm, loving smile. Inside, I’m shaking because the simple act of grinding against him is the single greatest sexual experience of my life, and I need to get my head on straight. Slowly, I pull away, offering a mumbled apology.

Darren pops the lid on his Coke and guzzles down half the can in one swig. He sets the can on the table and wades in front of me, grinning. His mouth opens, and he lets out an obnoxious belch, right into my face. The sudden shock grounds me, cutting through all my worry, and making me laugh. The laugh morphs into a high-pitched giggle. Darren is giggling just as hard as I am, and he moves to straddle my lap, cuddling against my chest. His erection digs into my stomach, but thankfully, he stays still, not giving into his hedonistic tendencies the way I just did with his shin. His erection remains dormant, pressed between our stomachs as I watch his face for a reaction.

“I used to love it up here.” He traces my eyebrow with his thumb. “It’s funny, really. From what I remember, you only dragged me out of the chapel when your dad would start screaming about the perils of homosexuality.” He gnaws on his lip and stares intensely at me, like he’s trying to crack my code and learn all my hidden secrets. I guess he’s succeeded, because I can’t stop an admission from tumbling out my mouth.

“I didn’t want you to have to listen,” I say, staring down at his chest. “I had to hear him screaming about it all my life, and I didn’t want that for you.” I look up, my hand reaching for his chest like I’m a magnet, and Darren’s heart is made of the strongest metals. “It killed me to listen to it, and your heart is fragile. It’s not made for all that hurt.” I sniffle, but I don’t look away from my boy. I can’t. Not when he’s staring at me with unfiltered love. “It’s why I never preach about it. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“So, you chose to put me through conversion therapy?”

“It’s the only way you’ll enter the kingdom of Heaven. This life is fleeting, Dare. Once it’s over, you’re either headed upstairs or downstairs.” I absentmindedly place a hand on his hip and squeeze, gasping when I realize what I’ve done. I try to pull it away, but Darren is quicker, placing his hand on top of mine and holding it there.

“Leave it there. Please?”

I close my eyes, letting my hand rest in place. “My point is, wherever we end up, we’re stuck. There are no celestial vacation destinations for downstairs tourists. You belong to me, and if you think I’m letting you mess up our eternity because you can’t walk the straight and narrow, you’re sorely mistaken. I am not going to let you end up in Hell. You’re too good, Darren. That ain’t where you belong.”

“Where do I belong?” he breathes, his eyes wide, hanging on my every word.

I press a hand to the center of his back and pull him in for another hug, cradling him. “Right here. With me.”

He keeps his head pressed against my shoulder for what feels like hours, and I allow myself this moment, rubbing up and down his back like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Occasionally flexing my unending erection, just to feel some form of connection with him. Why does he have to feel so right?

“Miles?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“I love you.” He pauses, his breath warm against my neck. “Please try to love me back.”

While I can’t give him what he so clearly wants, I can give something. I can give him the tightest hug I can manage, and I can give my sweet boy a kiss on the forehead, right where it belongs.