Learning-to-Feel (9 page)

To be honest and fair, neither had I.

But there I was at one in the morning, staring at the wall. My heart felt kind of strangled. I’d never felt the sting of rejection before. He hadn't even really rejected me… just said that whatever the hell this was, was just meaningless sex.

And it fucking stung.

I could have kicked myself for being so stupid. Trent had never said he felt anything for me, so maybe I'd misread the times when he'd held my hand, or the way he'd looked at me sometimes. He was only ever in this for sexual gratification.

He'd not lied about it, he'd not misled me. I knew what I was doing when I went into this. And now I was about to spend the weekend with him in Boston.

But it didn't mean anything to him.

So, I told myself it didn't mean anything to me. I could convince myself it was just physical. And that was exactly what I'd do. Just sex, just physical, nothing more. He was so much more experienced than me, in this – whatever the hell it was – and he told me I wasn’t ready to take the next step. Oral sex, hand jobs, yes, but sexual intercourse, no. I felt like I was ready. I wanted that with him. I wanted to feel that with him, to give myself to him – even if it meant nothing to him - and I wondered what it would take for me to be ready.

Then I heard footsteps down the hall, the wooden floorboards squeaking softly told me he was having trouble sleeping too. I waited and listened for him to walk past my room, but he didn't. I looked up and found him standing at my door.

"Can’t sleep?" I asked.

"Mm mm," he murmured softly with a shake of his head.

I took a deep breath, and before I realized what I’d done, I’d thrown the covers back, inviting him into my bed.

I could see his face in the moonlight, and his lips twitched into a smile before he crossed the room to climb into my bed. He snuggled down with his back to me and pulled the covers back up over us both. My arm slid around his waist, and I was spooning him, just how we'd slept all week, and he sighed at the contact of my skin on his.

His breathing evened out almost immediately, and I knew he was sleeping already. I rubbed my nose into the back of his head, smiling at how his hair tickled my nose, and how relaxed and sleepy I was with him in my arms.

My last thought before sleep claimed me, was how this – whatever the fuck it was – apparently didn't mean a thing.

****

I woke up to the feeling of my fingers being licked. It was kind of startling but not too unpleasant... until I realized my hand was hanging over the side of the bed. Peeling back my eyelids, I found the four legged culprit with happy brown eyes, a toothy grin and a long, slobbery pink tongue.

Bentley.

Groaning, I got up, changed into some sweats and sneakers. Reluctantly, I left the sleeping man in my bed and went downstairs. Bentley bounded happily out before me, and we set off for our morning run. I went further on the trail this morning, figuring Bentley could use the exertion before a three and a half hour car trip, and I used the run to clear my head.

I loved running through the woods that hugged the Bay. It sure beat pounding on a concrete pavement or running fruitless miles on a treadmill. The air was crisp, the ground was damp and the sounds of the living forest spurred me on. We'd easily covered several miles, and when we finally got back to the house, we were both panting.

Bentley's long coat was wet and kind of dirty, but he looked rather pleased. My shirt was soaked through with sweat, and my hair wet with the damp, forest air. When we walked through the back glass doors, Trent was fixing himself a coffee. He looked at the both of us and asked, "Did you run or swim?"

I leaned over, resting my hands on my knees and caught my breath. "Cardiovascular workout," I told him, "you should come with us next time."

Trent laughed loudly at me. "It gets my heart going enough just watching you," he said.

And it was comments like that that confused me. But it meant nothing to him, the sexual innuendos, the flirting, the nonchalance about it all. I knew that was just him, always joking about sex and feelings and never being serious.

Maybe that was how I should be with him.

So I took off my shirt, and he watched me, his eyes raking over my naked torso. He smirked at me, so I twisted the shirt in my hands and flicked it at his ass. It connected with a resounding thwack, and he spilled his coffee. "Ow."

I laughed. "I’m the Master Towel Flicker," I told him. "Growing up with Brendan, I have years of practice."

He pouted and rubbed his ass. I chuckled at him, "Would you like a doctor to have a look at that for you?"

He grabbed the dish towel from me, twisted it, aimed it at me and told me to piss off, but I just laughed at him and raced upstairs to the bathroom.

When I was showered, shaved and packed, I went back downstairs. I dropped my bag in the foyer and headed toward the kitchen to find Bentley, looking very excited at something behind the open laundry door.

I walked past him, and when he barked, I turned to find Trent behind me, armed with a twisted tea towel. "Oh Bentley," Trent scowled, "you gave me away."

I laughed incredulously. "Because he’s my breakfast buddy," I said as I patted and rubbed the dog. "He sticks up for me.

"He’s a traitor," Trent said with a pout, but his lips twisted, trying not to smile.

"It’s a shame," I told him. "I’d have let you rub my ass, too."

He groaned and threw the towel at me. I smiled at him and asked, "You ready to go? I have a surprise for you this afternoon," I told him, and his eyes widened. "Can’t be late."

He was a little more than shocked. My suggestion of a surprise had thrown him. "I’m packed," he said quietly. "I'll just grab my bag."

I found an old blanket and fixed it to the backseat of my car. Trent came out with his bag and some strap looking thing, which he called a harness, for Bentley. Ten minutes later, we were on the road.

We stopped at Portland for coffee, and so Bentley could pee in the park. Conversation was easy. The changing scenery prompted changes of topics, and there was rarely silence. Bentley laid down and napped while we talked, and my fears of having to clean the car of dog urine smell went unfounded.

We overtook a bus that was advertising for men’s cologne, and our conversation went from male models, to sports stars, to body image, to piercings and tattoos.

I asked him about the tattoo, a solitary star, that I’d seen on his hip.

"Is it a Texas thing?" I asked, and he chuckled.

"No, it’s a gay thing," he said with a smile.

I was surprised by this. "Oh."

"It’s a symbol of sexual preference, as a way to make it known to other gay guys," he explained.

"But it’s on your hip. How do guys see it?"

Oh. I realized they’d see it when he was naked with them…

He smiled and explained, "I don’t advertise my sexuality, Nathan, but I also don’t hide it. I’m not embarrassed and have nothing to be ashamed of," he said simply. "This symbol is more of a badge I wear to remind myself to always be true to who I am."

"I like that," I told him honestly. "It takes courage to wear your heart on your sleeve, so to speak. It’s commendable."

It was quiet after that but not uncomfortable, and we were soon in Boston. I wove through traffic as Trent took in the sights. I pointed out things of interest, which he was probably not too interested in, but I explained that while I was born in Chicago, I grew up in Boston. I told him how much I loved this city.

"Then why'd you leave?" he asked, a fair question.

I sighed. I didn’t know how I felt about divulging the truth to him. "I'd just worked a thirty-six hour shift without a day off in about two months. I was running myself into the ground. I think my boss was ready to sideline me, and I saw that Belfast County General was in need of a doctor…"

Trent nodded contemplatively. "Pretty big change of scene," he noted.

"What?" I said with a smile, "You mean Belfast County General isn't like Boston General Emergency?"

Trent rolled his eyes at me then looked out the window. "Why'd we stop?"

I pointed to his left. "That’s my place."

"You live here?" he asked with his eyebrows raised.

"No," I grinned at him. "I live in Belfast."

I got out of the car, and he joined me. I grabbed the bags, and he took care of Bentley. My apartment, technically a townhouse, was one of a row of joined cobblestones that someone with foresight had the brains and finances to develop in the nineties. I'd loved this place from the moment I first saw it two years ago, made an offer that same day, signed the paperwork three days later, and I'd secured my own private slice of Boston real estate.

I opened and held the door, allowing Trent and Bentley to walk in first. I followed them down the short hall and into the open kitchen-living area, where I put the bags down and flicked on some lights.

I could tell Trent was taking in the dark wooden floors, white rugs and the expensive furniture, but what hit me, like a ton of bricks, was how…
bare
it looked.

Everything was just as I left it. There wasn’t a thing out of place. Yes, it looked bare, but there was something else. I just couldn’t define what the difference was.

"Something wrong?" Trent asked me.

"No," I answered quickly. "No, no, it’s all good. Come on, I'll show Bentley his ensuite."

I opened the back doors, and my once ample courtyard looked tiny. There was a patio that covered half of it, and the rest was grass. The outdoor setting was pulled to one side and was covered, but it looked so small compared to the yard at Belfast. God, had it only been two weeks?

Bentley was quickly bounded outside, sniffing and exploring, then peeing on the large pot that sat in the corner. Trent looked at his urinating dog, then at me, and shrugged. "Bentley owns that one now. It’s got his name on it."

I laughed, and we left the back door open and went upstairs. "There are two bedrooms upstairs and the bathroom," I said as we got to the door of my room. I walked in and dumped both of our bags on my bed.

"A little presumptuous, aren't you?" he asked, looking at his bag on my bed.

"You can have the spare bed if you like," I told him, as nonchalantly as I could, and opened the curtains.

"Oh, shut up," he said, rolling his eyes. "You know I’m gonna end up in here anyway."

I grinned, and he chuckled at me then changed the topic completely, "Now, you said you had a surprise for me this afternoon?"

"Yes," I told him. "Lunch first though, I’m starving." I walked back down the stairs, grabbing my keys and Bentley's leash.

We walked two blocks to one of my favorite places in all of Boston. "Ah Nathan, we miss you," the short, smiling Japanese woman greeted me.

"Hello, Mrs. Lin," I greeted her in return. "I told you I was moving away."

"You not staying?" She asked, and I laughed and told her no. "But my sales are down," she scolded me. "My best customer move away, and I go broke."

"Can you deliver three hours away?" I asked her.

She scowled at me, then smiled. "What could I get for you, Nathan? Your usual?"

"Two, please," I said.

"Oh," she said suspiciously. "Lunch for two?"

I looked quickly back at Trent, who was standing outside with Bentley. "Um…yeah."

"Mmm," Mrs. Lin hummed. "He’s a cute boy."

I coughed and felt my cheeks flush. She handed me my lunch order, I paid and she was still smiling when I walked out the door.

We ate our sushi, Californian rolls and drank our green tea in the park. "God, I’ve missed this," I told him, indicating to our lunch.

"Do you ever eat anything that isn’t healthy?" he asked.

"I’m a doctor," I reminded him. "Do you want to know what eating fast-food will do to your body?"

He stuck his fingers in his ears. "No, I like not knowing. Please don’t ruin it for me. I love burgers."

I laughed at him and spared him the lecture on translipid fats and refined sugars. He grinned at me, and we finished our lunch and took Bentley home.

"Should I change into anything in particular?" he asked, still not knowing where we were going.

"Jeans are fine," I told him, and when he came back down stairs, he was wearing dark denim jeans and a blue button down shirt that matched the color of his eyes. His blond curls were somehow brushed back off his face, and he lifted one corner of his mouth into that smirk he had.

"Pick your jaw up, Nathan," he told me.

"You look… um…"

"I look what? C'mon say it," he taunted me.

"You look fucking hot."

He laughed then and said, "You're not too difficult to look at either."

I walked straight up to him and stood before him. My shoes were touching his, and I had to kiss him. I needed to kiss him and touch him, feel him. My hand touched his face, my thumb skimmed his jaw and I pressed my lips to his.

I told myself to kiss him without feeling, but then his lips moved against mine as he kissed me back. I held his face and pushed my mouth onto his, opening my lips and caressing his tongue with mine. His hands held my hips, and I couldn’t help but moan when he pulled me against him.

I felt this kiss building in desire, and as much as I wanted it, I wanted to show him his surprise more.

I broke the kiss, and leaning my forehead against his, I took a second to breathe. I licked my lips, but couldn’t help kissing him again, chastely. He smiled against my lips, and I told him, "If we didn’t leave now, we won't be going anywhere."

He chuckled and took some deep breaths. We fixed Bentley some dinner and water, a blanket on the floor, one more bathroom break, and we finally left.

It wasn’t far to the city from my place, so we jumped in a cab. I gave the directions to, "Huntingford Avenue," and Trent looked at me in wonder. I grinned at him. "We're going to see MoFA," I told him.

"MoFA? Who's that?"

I laughed. "Not a who, but a what."

"Oh enough with the cryptic shit," he moaned. "I'll just wait to see for myself."

"Don’t like surprises much, hey?" I teased him, and he pouted. He was so fucking cute when he tried to pout, and before long his pout became a smirk.