home, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Joe's voice was warm without gushing. “I’d like to see you again, somewhere that we can talk, get to know each other. Are you interested?”
The smell of the whisky Cal had poured stung Tom’s nose, aromatic, pungent. He stared at Cal, who was tilting his glass, studying the amber liquid as it spilled from one side of the glass and back.
“Yes,” Tom said, and felt as committed and yet unsure as a man skydiving for the first time, the ground rushing up at him, the safety of the plane left behind him. “That sounds good.”
He let Joe make the arrangements—time, place, date—and then he ended the call.
“So,” Cal said, his expression encouraging, if distant. “I guess it all went the way it was supposed to.”
That seemed like a strange way to put it. Tom hadn’t gone out with the express intention of picking someone up—or being picked up—after all, but it seemed that Cal’s goal had been exactly that. With dawning suspicion, Tom wondered if Cal thought that his life would be easier if Tom were seeing someone and had manipulated events to get his wish.
“I guess it did,” Tom said. Lemonade from lemons. He had a date. It didn’t matter how it’d happened, just that it had.
He couldn’t help wondering what his answer would have been if Joe had called five minutes later, though.
Chapter Seven
“And then! We found out that we both have a weird fondness for salami,” Tom said, eyes wide and delighted. He’d been home from his first date with Joe for only five minutes, but he’d managed to describe just about the entire three hours.
“That is weird,” Cal said blandly. Tom didn’t really seem to require any kind of response to his babbling, but it was only polite to contribute something once in a while.
“He wouldn’t let me pay,” Tom went on. “Believe me, I tried.”
“Did you kiss him?” It was the kind of question Tom wouldn’t appreciate—too personal—somehow, though, it slipped out before Cal could stop himself.
Tom stopped, and for a few seconds Cal thought that might be the end of their conversation. It was hard to filter through all his feelings on the matter to the actual truth. On the one hand, he wanted to know everything; on the other, not knowing might be easier.
Cal’s feelings of regret for having instigated Tom’s foray into the sometimes wonderful world of dating had been growing. Tom had been happy the way things were, hadn’t he? Who was Cal to think he knew what was best for someone else when he could barely figure out what was right for himself? He’d become so confused about what he should be doing with his own life that he hadn’t been out all week, even though he was between assignments. Instead, he’d been hanging out with Tom and going to bed early, only to spend hours staring at the ceiling, wishing for sleep.
“He kissed me,” Tom said finally and slowly.
“Didn’t you want him to?”
“Of course I did! It’s not like getting a shot.”
“True,” Cal agreed.
“It’s just…” Tom waved his hands in the air, his fingers flexing as if he were trying to talk with them. “I never knew which way to tilt my head. Or what to do with my tongue. And when I swallowed, I kept thinking, okay, that’s not just my spit, and it seemed kinda gross.”
Cal shook his head. “You are deeply weird, you know that? Cute but strange.” Cal put his hands on Tom’s shoulders and shook him gently. “You’re thinking too much. Seriously. Relax and enjoy it. If you bump noses, so what? If it feels like a good time to go exploring his back teeth, do it. And spit happens. Sex is messy.”
“We’re not having sex!”
“No, but you will be,” Cal said frankly and patted Tom’s arm before stepping away. He covered up the twist in his gut at the thought of Tom getting naked with Joe by wiping away a fake tear. “I feel so proud. You’ve come such a long
The smell of the whisky Cal had poured stung Tom’s nose, aromatic, pungent. He stared at Cal, who was tilting his glass, studying the amber liquid as it spilled from one side of the glass and back.
“Yes,” Tom said, and felt as committed and yet unsure as a man skydiving for the first time, the ground rushing up at him, the safety of the plane left behind him. “That sounds good.”
He let Joe make the arrangements—time, place, date—and then he ended the call.
“So,” Cal said, his expression encouraging, if distant. “I guess it all went the way it was supposed to.”
That seemed like a strange way to put it. Tom hadn’t gone out with the express intention of picking someone up—or being picked up—after all, but it seemed that Cal’s goal had been exactly that. With dawning suspicion, Tom wondered if Cal thought that his life would be easier if Tom were seeing someone and had manipulated events to get his wish.
“I guess it did,” Tom said. Lemonade from lemons. He had a date. It didn’t matter how it’d happened, just that it had.
He couldn’t help wondering what his answer would have been if Joe had called five minutes later, though.
Chapter Seven
“And then! We found out that we both have a weird fondness for salami,” Tom said, eyes wide and delighted. He’d been home from his first date with Joe for only five minutes, but he’d managed to describe just about the entire three hours.
“That is weird,” Cal said blandly. Tom didn’t really seem to require any kind of response to his babbling, but it was only polite to contribute something once in a while.
“He wouldn’t let me pay,” Tom went on. “Believe me, I tried.”
“Did you kiss him?” It was the kind of question Tom wouldn’t appreciate—too personal—somehow, though, it slipped out before Cal could stop himself.
Tom stopped, and for a few seconds Cal thought that might be the end of their conversation. It was hard to filter through all his feelings on the matter to the actual truth. On the one hand, he wanted to know everything; on the other, not knowing might be easier.
Cal’s feelings of regret for having instigated Tom’s foray into the sometimes wonderful world of dating had been growing. Tom had been happy the way things were, hadn’t he? Who was Cal to think he knew what was best for someone else when he could barely figure out what was right for himself? He’d become so confused about what he should be doing with his own life that he hadn’t been out all week, even though he was between assignments. Instead, he’d been hanging out with Tom and going to bed early, only to spend hours staring at the ceiling, wishing for sleep.
“He kissed me,” Tom said finally and slowly.
“Didn’t you want him to?”
“Of course I did! It’s not like getting a shot.”
“True,” Cal agreed.
“It’s just…” Tom waved his hands in the air, his fingers flexing as if he were trying to talk with them. “I never knew which way to tilt my head. Or what to do with my tongue. And when I swallowed, I kept thinking, okay, that’s not just my spit, and it seemed kinda gross.”
Cal shook his head. “You are deeply weird, you know that? Cute but strange.” Cal put his hands on Tom’s shoulders and shook him gently. “You’re thinking too much. Seriously. Relax and enjoy it. If you bump noses, so what? If it feels like a good time to go exploring his back teeth, do it. And spit happens. Sex is messy.”
“We’re not having sex!”
“No, but you will be,” Cal said frankly and patted Tom’s arm before stepping away. He covered up the twist in his gut at the thought of Tom getting naked with Joe by wiping away a fake tear. “I feel so proud. You’ve come such a long
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