Marie Sexton - Promises

And I knew he was smiling although his voice was very quiet when he said, “A lot better.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“I’ve been awake for a while, thinking. And I realized a few things.” He stopped for a moment, and I waited. “I dated quite a few girls over the years. I was attracted to them, and I even cared about a couple of them. But I never loved any of them. And the relationships just weren’t ever very satisfying. They always seemed like more trouble than they were worth. And so I gave up. I decided that I just wasn’t really cut out for it, that I liked being a bachelor, and that I wasn’t ever dating again. And actually, my life got a lot easier after that.

“And sometimes I would be physically attracted to other men. But it wasn’t ever anybody I really knew, so I ignored it. I didn’t want those feelings, and I buried them down deep inside of me until they were gone.

“And things were okay for a while. But you know how it is. Pretty soon, all of my friends were married. And I always felt like a fifth wheel.” Yes, I did know how that felt. “The only time I wasn’t the odd man out was when they were trying to hook me up with someone, and that was worse. So I started making excuses, quit hanging out with them. And one day I woke up and realized that they were gone.

“So I changed jobs, and I moved here. And I met you. I was so tired of being lonely, and I was so glad to finally find somebody to just hang out with.”

I squeezed him when he said that and whispered, “Me too.”

“All summer, we had so much fun together, and I was so happy to have you. And that happiness just kept growing. It got bigger and bigger until it was all I thought about. Every day when I woke up, I couldn’t wait to see you again. It was such a great feeling. And I guess I’m an idiot, because I truly didn’t recognize what it meant.” He stopped, but I knew he wasn’t done. “And that would have been okay, too, except then, just out of the fucking blue, there were the, well, the urges that went with those feelings. Strong urges. And that was something I honestly had not expected at all. They caught me completely off guard. Well, I don’t think I need to tell you, it freaked me right the fuck out.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” But I said it teasingly. “And how about now? Does it still freak you out?”

“A little. Not as much. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it the past few weeks. It’s been hard for me to get used to the idea of being with another man, but….” He stopped for a second, and I could hear a smile in his voice when he went on, “I think last night helped quite a bit.”

I smiled too. “I’m glad I took that chance, then.”

“Me too.” I could tell by his voice that he was blushing. “But I don’t mean just that. I woke up a couple of hours ago, and my first thought was that I should leave before you woke up. But I realized I didn’t want to leave. I realized….” He paused for second, took a deep breath, and said, “I really like being here.”

“You’re always welcome at my house. You know that.”

“No. I mean”—and I felt his hand on my arm, where it was wrapped around him—“I like being here.”

“Oh.” Here in my bed. In my arms. Was that really what he was telling me? My heart was suddenly racing. Once I thought I could keep my voice level, I asked, as casually as I could, trying to hide the insane hope that was suddenly flooding through me, “Are you saying that you want to be with me?”

A pause, and then, his voice full of amazement, he said, “I think maybe I want to try.”

I held him tighter, my forehead against the nape of his neck, and tried to just concentrate on breathing for a minute. I felt him there against me, so big and strong and yet so vulnerable. Could this really be happening? I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted so much to kiss him, to touch him everywhere, to shed what little clothing was between us, to spend the whole day in bed with him. But I also knew this was a big step for him, and I didn’t want to push him. My erection, which had gone down as we had been talking, was suddenly back, and I didn’t know if I should be trying to hide that fact from him or not.

“Jared, say something.”

My voice was shaking. “Like what?”

“What do you want?”

“Matt.” I tightened my arms around him, kissed his neck, and slid one hand up his smooth stomach to his chest. “All I’ve ever wanted is you.”

He sighed and relaxed into my arms. I kissed his neck some more and let my hand explore his chest and then his stomach. My fingers found that amazing trail of hair leading down from his navel and started to follow it. He moaned a little as my fingers moved lower. I reached down and put my hand over the bulge in his briefs, felt his erection jump against my hand. And suddenly, before I even knew it, he had jumped out of bed like he was spring loaded and started putting his pants on.

“Shit. Matt, I’m sorry….”

“Don’t be sorry.” His cheeks were red with embarrassment, but he looked right at me, so I knew he meant what he said. “You don’t need to be sorry. Just… not yet, okay?”

The words “not yet” sounded so much like a promise that my heart swelled. “Okay.”

“I’ll make coffee. You can have the shower first.”

There was a cup of coffee waiting for me on the counter when I emerged from the shower. He was staring into the fridge with a frown on his face.

“Why do you have so much mustard, anyway?”

“It’s Eddy Mac mustard.”

“What?”

“You know—Ed McCaffrey. He used to play for the Broncos. He makes mustard now, and the money goes to some charity. I was trying to do my part.”

He gave me the pseudo-grin. “You’re such a philanthropist.” He closed the fridge.

“Seriously, what do you have to eat? I’m starving.”

“There are some Pop-Tarts in the cabinet. And some Fruit Loops. Although I wouldn’t use the milk if I were you. And I have some peanut butter, but I’m out of bread.”

He leaned on the counter, looked in my eyes, and said, “We’ll definitely need to do something about this kitchen. Are you working today?”

“Yes. I get off at five.”

“Do you have an extra house key?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have it?”

“Of course.”

“I need to go home and change, and then I’ll do some shopping and meet you here after work.”

And that sounded a little bit like a promise too.

WHEN I got home, he was in the kitchen putting water on the stove to cook spaghetti in.

“Here.” He tossed me a yellow bell pepper. “Cut that up for the salad, will you? I got an avocado for you too.” He hated avocados.

“What are you gonna do?”

He winked at me. “Supervise, of course.” He leaned against the counter next to me, and I started chopping. “I’ve been meaning to ask how the tutoring is going.”

I told him about Ringo and about the visit from Alice Rochester. I don’t cook, so it took me a ridiculously long time to cut up the pepper and avocado. I noticed he was moving closer as I talked, but I kept my eyes on the cutting board in front of me.

Then I felt that gentle tug on the back of my head, and it felt like my heart stopped beating. Such a tiny, innocent thing as he pulled gently on my curls, but it hit me all at once that he really had come back to me. I realized I had stopped talking, stopped moving; maybe I had even stopped breathing. I almost wanted to cry but fought it. I made myself take a breath and found that I was shaking.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, almost in my ear.

“I missed this,” I said quietly.

“I missed you.” He stepped closer. “Jared, I want to try something. Like an experiment. Is that okay?”

“Last time you asked a question like that, it ended with you not speaking to me for almost two months.” I tried to say it lightly, but I didn’t quite pull it off.

He lightly wrapped his arms around me and put his face in my hair. “I know. I’m sorry.”

I thought about it for a minute. I had an idea what he had in mind. “I don’t want to be alone anymore. Whatever you want this to be between us, I can handle it. Just don’t leave me again.”

“Never. I promise. I learned my lesson.”

I took a deep breath, tried to slow my speeding heart, and turned to face him. “Okay.”

He pulled me close, then took my face in his hands, and looked into my eyes. I started to put my arms around him, but he tensed up and said, “No. Don’t do that.”

“I’m not allowed to touch you?”

“Not yet.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“Stop talking.” He was so serious I might have laughed if my heart wasn’t pounding so hard. I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

He was combing his fingers through my hair, and I remembered my birthday—his hands in my hair and his weight against me, his lips against my neck, and then him walking out the door.

“Relax, Jared,” he whispered, and I pulled my mind away from that night. It would not end like that. Whatever happened, he had promised not to leave again. I felt him lean in. Felt his breath against my lips and then the faintest brush of his lips over my mouth—soft, warm lips against mine. It was all I could do to keep my hands at my side. Then he actually kissed me, firm but gentle, his lips just barely parted.

He never said I couldn’t kiss back.

I opened my mouth, leaned into him, and brushed the tip of my tongue against his lips.

Whatever wall he had been trying to keep between us crumbled away at that slight touch. He moaned, and suddenly he was really kissing me, his arms tight around me, his tongue touching mine, his body pressing hard against me. This time, he didn’t object when I put my arms around him.