Out of Nowhere (31 page)

“He didn’t….” Daniel fumbles around for words.

“I don’t even know if he would’ve loved me if he knew who I was, okay!”

Daniel swallows hard. “You mean because you saw how he didn’t love me once he knew I was gay.”

Shit. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No, I know.” He’s fiddling with something in his pocket and rubbing a hand over his chest absently.

After a minute of awkward silence, Rafe comes back in and lays out food from the Greek place I like down the street.

“Oh shit, this is so good,” Daniel says with his mouth full. “My—um, Rex, my—um, he loves to cook.”

“Your boyfriend?” Rafe asks.

Daniel nods, but he gets this doofy look on his face like he’s a thousand miles away, and he rubs his chest again.

“So, Daniel,” Rafe begins politely, and I can tell he’s about to initiate some kind of getting-to-know-you chatter, but Daniel interrupts him.

“We’re—I’m—we’re moving in together,” he blurts out, looking at me. “Oh, sorry,” he says to Rafe, realizing he interrupted. Rafe just smiles at him and shakes his head. “He asked me. At Christmas,” Daniel says softly, nervously fiddling with his fork. Then he shakes his head as if he’s irritated with himself for saying it.

I don’t know what to say. I kind of hated Rex on sight, but, you know, there were extenuating circumstances.

“Congratulations,” Rafe says once it’s clear I’m not going to respond.

“Thanks,” Daniel mutters, clearly embarrassed at the attention even though he’s the one who brought it up.

Daniel and I both shove food in our faces for a minute to avoid talking, and Rafe looks between us, saying nothing.

Rafe puts his hand on my thigh under the table and squeezes. Daniel stares into space as he eats, his mind clearly on something else.

“Wait,” he says after a while, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, “I was little and he was… what?”

“What?” I say.

“Buddy McKenzie. You said you were worried something would happen to me because I was little and he… what?”

“What? Nothing. He was an asshole. And way too old for you.”

“I thought he was your friend?”

“No.” I put my fork down, my appetite gone.

“But… wasn’t he?”

“No. Well, once.”

“I just don’t understand—”

“Look, I thought he was hurting you, okay? What else is there to understand?”

Every muscle in my body is rigid, and I’m vaguely aware of Rafe tensing beside me. He can always tell when something’s wrong.

“But, I mean, I was….” Daniel blushes. “You know, I was the one… going down on him, so—”

“Yeah, so I saw,” I bite off.

“So… okay, so then, why—”

“How did I know you wanted to do that? That he didn’t manipulate you into it!” I put my hand over my mouth as Daniel’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t…. Wait, did that… happen to you?” Daniel asks. “Oh shit. Did that happen to you with Buddy? Is that why you weren’t friends anymore?”

I forgot this about Daniel. The way he takes little pieces of what you say and fills in the blanks to make whole stories. It’s why I never used to want to answer him when he’d ask me about my day or try to get me to talk about shit. Because I knew that in his head, he was weaving it all together and getting more out of it than I ever intended to let on.

“You
were
friends,” Daniel murmurs. “I remember.”

“You were a kid. You don’t remember shit.”

He shakes his head like I haven’t even spoken.

“What the fuck did he do?”

Rafe is motionless beside me.

IT WAS
the beginning of senior year. We’d been in football together for years, but we weren’t exactly close. There was just something about the way I felt when we were together. Something that was different than my other friends. Different even than Xavier. There was this… energy between us. I didn’t know what it was at first.

One afternoon we were drunk at his cousin’s house, where Buddy lived in the basement for a reason I never quite understood, and he came into the bathroom while I was taking a piss. I thought he walked in on me by accident, but then he looked down at my dick and grinned at me like he could read my mind.

At first I was just terrified that he knew my secret. That he was going to tell everyone that I sometimes got hard-ons in the locker room. But then he unzipped his jeans and pissed into the toilet with me. I started to say something, but when we were finished, he reached for me. I startled, but he grinned the way he did when we were playing video games or when he made a good block, blue eyes scrunching up, tongue just showing between the gap in his teeth. He put my hand on his dick and we stroked each other off. It felt good, losing it between us, his rough hand on me. But the second it was over, I was so terrified, so ashamed that I practically ran out of the bathroom.

The next time I saw Buddy, we both acted normal, but the second we were alone, he pushed me against the wall and started fumbling with our pants and I got hard in about three seconds.

We never talked about what we did. We never touched anything but each other’s dicks. Never kissed or caressed. That would’ve seemed totally weird. But it was clear that we both wanted it, so…. That whole month, whenever we were alone together, we jerked each other off, fast and hard, and then got drunk like it never happened and watched football or played one of his cousin’s video games. He would hang around the shop sometimes, shooting the shit with me and Sam. He was into cars too, so it was no big deal.

After another couple months, it was clear what he wanted. He wanted to fuck me. When I got annoyed at him trying to pull me down onto the bed, he’d just act like it was a joke and we’d finish up like we always had.

One day, though, he lost his temper. He was a smiley guy. Big and blond, and when he smiled he looked like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. But when he got pissed, his whole face and neck turned red and his eyes squinted and his mouth turned to a snarl. That day, when I tried to laugh it off, he crowded me against the wall. “You know how easy it’d be for me to tell everyone about this?” he said. I kind of laughed again and rolled my eyes, but his expression chilled me.

“I’m serious,” he said. “Let’s just help each other out, okay?”

I was shocked at what he was saying, but he was still Buddy. Still my friend, and I didn’t think he’d really say anything.

“Come on, man,” I said. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, bud. I’m just saying there are things that feel a whole hell of a lot better than a hand job, you know?” And he smiled at me like he always did. “Look, just think about it.” Then he backed off like he knew he’d gone too far.

A few weeks later, I’d almost forgotten about it. Written it off to being drunk and horny and stupid. He called, asked if I wanted to hang out, and I went.

And it was fine. We drank a few beers, ordered pizza, watched a game. No problem. Same thing the next time. It was all fine.

Then he started bringing it up again. Casually. How good it’d be. How it was no big deal. Just getting off. Just between friends. And how easy it’d be to slip up and tell someone about what we did together.

Finally, one night, he was more explicit than usual and I was tired of going around in circles. So I agreed. Because he was my friend. Because people finding out seemed like the worst thing that could possibly happen. And because maybe Buddy was right and it would be good. Maybe also because I wanted to know for sure. Because sex with Maya had turned into a nightmare, but that was my only experience with it. So yeah. I said okay.

He got that familiar grin on his face. My friend. Happy because I was doing what he wanted. He patted me on the back like I’d made the right decision, and he fumbled our pants down and pushed me down on the bed.

“Cool, man,” he said. “This’ll be awesome.”

But it wasn’t awesome. I couldn’t relax and it hurt and when I wanted to stop—

“Don’t pull that girl shit, man. You agreed. We had a deal.”

So. Afterward, we never did it again. I didn’t go over to Buddy’s house anymore and he didn’t call me again.

But then one morning, I came out to the garage, coffee mug in hand, to see Buddy there, talking with Pop. It had been more than four years, but at the sight of his blond hair and rounded shoulders, I felt queasy and light-headed.

He was going to be picking up a few shifts at the garage, Pop said.

“Hey, man,” Buddy said to me, clapping me on the back. “Long time no see, huh?”

When Pop walked into his office to do some paperwork, I rounded on Buddy.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Aw, come on, bud, don’t be like that,” he said. “A job’s a job, right? And I need this one.”

I shook my head. “You gotta get outta here, man.”

His eyes narrowed and his smile disappeared in an instant. “Look, bud, I don’t think you’re in any position to be telling me what to do,” he said, and he nodded at Pop, coming out of his office. “Just a few shifts a week. No harm, no foul, am I right?” And he walked over to Pop to finalize arrangements.

DANIEL LOOKS
stricken at what I’ve told them. Sick. And Rafe is still frozen beside me. He does that sometimes. He told me once that in prison, if you were still while others were moving, you were less likely to get pulled into a fight. It was easier to avoid being seen. To take a time-out until you can decide what to do.

I go into the bathroom and splash some water on my face, trying not to think about how, a month after Buddy beginning his shifts at the shop, I’d found Daniel—younger than I had been when Buddy and I started hooking up—blowing him in the alley.

How Buddy’s dirty hand was heavy on Daniel’s hair, Daniel’s sharp shoulders barely visible behind the bulk of Buddy’s thighs. How red Buddy’s face was or how Daniel’s hands fluttered on his own knees like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch Buddy with anything but his mouth. The sick fury that had unfurled in my gut, blinding me to everything but one imperative: get Buddy the fuck away from my brother.

I brush my teeth twice and force myself to walk slowly back to the kitchen. Rafe’s cleaning up the food and Daniel’s sitting on the floor, his back against the refrigerator, clutching Shelby like she’s a stuffed animal. She’s letting him, but I can tell she’s losing patience quickly.

“You’re about to get scratched,” I tell him.

“Huh?” When he looks up, he’s alarmingly pale and his eyes are unfocused. “Ow, shit!”

“Told you.”

Shelby runs to Rafe and rubs her face against his shins.

“Look, I’m really tired,” I say. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Colin….” Daniel stands up and comes toward me, but I look over his shoulder. I can’t see the hurt in his face, even if it is mostly on my behalf. I can’t see the sympathy. The soft, vulnerable look that I know will be there. I can’t be mad at him right now. It’s just too much.

“Your socks don’t match,” I say.

“Huh?” Daniel looks down. “Oh. Shit.” He looks like he’s about to say something, but he changes his mind. “I’ll um—I’ll get out of your hair,” he says finally, walking to the front door. He jams his feet into his boots while standing, nearly losing his balance, and pulls his jacket on. Then he turns to me.

“Um.” He runs his hand through his hair, messing it up. “Thanks. Thanks for agreeing to talk with me. I didn’t… I… thanks. And thank you for dinner,” he says, looking to Rafe. “And for….” He shakes his head. “Anyway. I’ll…. Can I maybe call you sometime?”

For a second I think he’s talking to Rafe and I bristle at the idea. Then I realize he’s looking at me.

“I guess,” I say, and he nods, like that’s more than he was expecting.

He opens the door and shivers.

“Bye, cat,” he says as Shelby sniffs at the fresh air. He blocks her with his foot.

“You all right to get home?” Rafe asks.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure,” Daniel says, like he’s confused as to why Rafe would ask.

IN BED,
I try to pull Rafe down on top of me, but he resists, kissing me chastely on the cheek. I roll close to him and try to kiss his mouth, but he just grabs me and holds me to him, tucking my head under his chin. When I change tactics and try to reach down to his underwear, he growls and rolls us, pinning me to the bed.

“Please,” he says, holding my shoulders down. “Please don’t. Please.” He’s stroking my hair and my face and my neck, looking down at me.

Screw this. If he doesn’t want me, fine. I roll away from him and bury my face in my pillow. I just want to fall asleep and forget this day ever happened. I wish we were back at the beach house. Wish it was the sound of waves I could hear and not the sounds of traffic. Wish tomorrow I could wake up and have breakfast with Rafe, looking out at the gray ocean instead of dragging myself over to Pop’s to make sure Brian hasn’t gotten scurvy or something from living on only beer and crackers.

“Colin.” Rafe’s voice is gentle, his lips warm at my ear. He kisses my shoulder and rests a hand on my bare hip.

I huff and roll farther away from him, but when he moves toward me again, pulling me back against him, I press my ass into his crotch and hear his breath catch. The hand on my hip turns to a caress, and I throw my head back. Rafe kisses my neck, his hair tumbling over my face. I roll onto my back and pull him down on top of me.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and I can feel his dick stiffen against my hip, so I take advantage of it and kiss him hard, thrusting up against him. Though he tries to pull away at first, he finally sinks down against me, his hands running over my thighs and my ribs as we kiss.

“Are you sure now’s a good time to do this?” Rafe asks, his breath labored. “You sure you want this?”

“Look, just because that thing happened with Buddy, like, a hundred years ago, doesn’t mean I’m some little girl who got raped or something. Would you just fuck me?”

Rafe freezes.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with whether you’re male or female,” he says, and he sounds pissed. “You think men can’t be hurt? Can’t be raped?” His voice is shaking. “Do you know how many men I saw get—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head and pushes off me, dropping onto his back on the bed and putting one arm over his face. “And the fact that you don’t see it—that you don’t see what he did to you….” He shakes his head. “If you don’t feel like it was rape, then… then, I’m glad, I guess, but…. Colin, he
coerced
you. He threatened to tell your father and your brothers that you were gay if you didn’t let him have sex with you when you didn’t want it. That’s… that’s—well, whatever you want to call it, it’s fucking wrong. And I hate that it happened to you.”