Shiny! (12 page)

The morning after Kenny’s little super-hoppy beer indulgence, he’d nibbled on his toast and said, “Too bad you didn’t go away to college. You would have been
very
popular in your dorms!”

Will had shrugged and started pan-frying some canadian bacon he’d found in Kenny’s refrigerator. “I wasn’t this comfortable in my own skin,” he said frankly. “It wasn’t until—never mind.”

“No!” Kenny protested, and he didn’t even wince. “C’mon—you heard my worst day
ever
. Tell me yours?”

Will had stayed the night, and he’d actually packed for it that time. He was wearing a clean pair of sleep shorts and a T-shirt and flip-flops on what must have been size-fifteen feet. He kept his back turned long enough for Kenny to read
I Aim To Misbehave
on the back and feel stupid because he hadn’t even spotted the
Firefly
reference. Briskly, Will started plating up the canadian bacon and some fruit salad he’d opened. He set it down in front of Kenny without speaking—and without even making eye contact—and Kenny was just about to totally apologize for whatever it was he’d just dredged up when Will said, “My father died.” And then he sat down and looked at his food.

“Oh Will—”

“See, he wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t… I mean, he wasn’t a communicator. I used to stay up late with my ear pressed against the wall because I could hear my mom talking to him. She’d tell him things like ‘Will got an A in science today!’ and my dad would say, ‘Smart kid.’ But he never said those things to
me
.”

Kenny opened his mouth, and closed it, and opened it, and then, at a total loss, put his hand on Will’s as it hovered over his fork.

Will shot him a brief smile. “So anyway, suddenly, all that—you know, that
fear
you feel, about ‘Does this person like me, or what if he thinks I’m an asshole, or what if I’m so totally weird and off the grid I’ll need to be committed’—that just went the hell away, you know? It wasn’t even a consideration anymore. I just… just scattered it with my dad’s ashes, let the tide wash it away. And didn’t let it bother me anymore.”

Kenny found himself smiling, just
smiling
at Will, his mouth stretched so wide his teeth dried out. “That’s fucking amazing,” he said, meaning every syllable. “No bitterness, no angst—you have much to teach me, Master!”

Will winked. “Eat your crappy breakfast, Padawan, and show me where the lawn mower is. Your ex took care of the lawn, didn’t he?”

Kenny had done laundry while Will mowed his lawn, and Kenny tried not to yearn for the sweet straight boy who had literally knocked his shit over on the first day.

It got harder every time they met in the evening to work on their little project.

Will got a few sub jobs in the local district—sometimes he met Kenny after work, looking serious and blocky in the semiprofessional uniform of the public school teacher. On the days he
didn’t
teach, he wore funny T-shirts and cargo shorts (since it was
May in the Sacramento Valley) and he looked
fun
.
He smiled more on those days, Kenny thought with a pang. He needed to do something besides teaching. Kenny remembered all of his teachers—and they’d been nice people. But their whole job was to teach people what shape the box was.

Kenny didn’t like to think of Will locked in the box. He wanted Will
out
of the box.

The Monday after Will mowed his lawn, Kenny designed and ordered five hundred business cards. Will Lafferty, Web Designer, with the important information on the back and a bold, brightly colored graphic of a computer on fire with the
good
pinstriped motorcycle kind of flames. Kenny was damned good at what he did—instead of looking tacky, they’d made Will look cutting edge and powerful. He’d only given Will 250 of the cards, because he had a feeling they’d sit on Will’s desk while the man who could make
pest control
look glamorous (Kenny had since made him take that business down as his sample) dithered with “But really, I’m sort of a little mudfish in a big koi pond” and refused to put himself forward.

Instead, Kenny had taken fifty of those cards and put them on the desk of everyone on his floor of the building, and kept the rest of them to pass out to anyone who needed one.

So far Will had garnered three new clients, and from what those guys were telling Kenny at work, they’d never been happier with their website maintenance or setup. Kenny didn’t tell him—for some reason, he just wanted to see Will smile.

For some reason, my ass!

God. Kenny puttered around his kitchen, checking the pasta, chopping the greens for the salad, adding the pine-nut ranch dressing, and trying to avoid the inescapable truth.

He just wanted Will period.

Kenny, Kenny, Kenny… he’s not even your type!

True—he preferred men with legs up to their chins and narrow faces with chiseled cheekbones. But maybe seeing Gifford, who had a narrow face with chiseled cheekbones, being nailed by Oscar, who at least had the chiseled cheekbones, made Kenny think twice.

Maybe he just wanted a guy who made him feel good about himself and shared his passions and
mowed his fucking lawn
without complaining all the goddamned time.

Wow.

Settling much, Kenny?

No, he told himself grouchily. He’d settled for Gif. Will was way out of his league.

And he’s straight!

And—oh, hey, he’s here!

Kenny answered the door with a genuine smile and some gratitude. Will had gotten fresh garlic and real butter with the fresh sourdough round, because there was no such thing as diet when garlic bread was on the table.

He wore a T-shirt that said
Party on, Wayne. Party on, Darth
and featured Lego figures of Bruce Wayne and Darth Vader, and Kenny couldn’t seem to stop giggling over it as he set the table.

“God, you’re easy,” Will said, winking at him, and all the pep talks in the world couldn’t make Little Kenny stand down.
He has no idea.

“So, I hear you got a new client,” Kenny said, suddenly unable to keep that a secret anymore. “Here, sit down. I just need to pull stuff off the stove.”

Will grinned at him and settled in the chair farthest from Kenny’s path around the kitchen. “Yeah—that was nice of you. Apparently you wallpapered your office with business cards—thanks!” He gnawed his lip. “I’m worried, though. That one guy—the sort of douchey one who wants to convince everyone he’s, like, a world-class fisherman—”

“Ward?”

“Yeah, that guy. Anyway, he wants something ‘new and exciting,’ which means he wants new graphics and not just the stuff I can buy off the regular sites—”

“I can design stuff for you!” Kenny said excitedly, thinking it could be something else they could work on. The pasta was already tossed in a pretty ceramic bowl, and he set that down on a hot pad. He pulled the salad out of the refrigerator and set it down beside the pasta while Will kept talking.

“Yeah, but Kenny—how much do you charge? I mean, I feel bad enough taking your time for the business card—”

“That was a gift!” Kenny protested, and Will nodded vehemently, taking away the sting.

“I know—and I’m so grateful.” Will rearranged the stuff on the table to give Kenny room to put the milk. “It’s awesome—you actually made
me
look cool, and that’s some doing! But taking your talent without paying you back isn’t something I can do.”

Kenny shrugged and pulled the garlic bread out of the oven. “Well, then, pay me. Tell me what the regular graphics places charge and then tell me what you want. We’ll come up with something special and I’ll take my cut. It’s no big deal.”

Will’s smile suddenly turned shy. “Yeah?” he asked, and if Kenny didn’t know better, he’d say the big man was flirting with him.

Kenny smiled back and found himself blushing. “Yeah,” he said. “I like working with you.”

And smile? Did Kenny think that first expression was a “smile”? Because this one here opened Will’s face up and flooded the world with sunshine. Oh holy jebus,
that
was a smile!

“Awesome!” Will crowed. “And”—he flushed a little, the color easy to read on his wide, smooth-skinned face—“and honestly, I have some ideas.”

Kenny sort of loved him more for that. It not only meant he was being genuine about not wanting to take advantage, but he also appreciated Kenny’s talent too.

“We’ll talk about it after dinner,” he said. He cut the bread quickly and put it in a wooden bowl with a nice linen towel on top, and then set that down in front of Will.

He started serving and realized Will was just gazing at him with admiration. “Look at all the
stuff
you’ve got!” he said in wonder. “Arty bowls, tablecloths and place mats, pasta spoons—wow! Your whole kitchen is just done in grown-up! How does that happen to someone our age?”

Kenny waved his hand and tried for casual. “It’s the gay,” he said, trying not to preen too much. He actually got his liking of nice things from his parents.
They
went for very
Better Homes and Gardens
, because that was just the whole of Davis, but he liked eclectic and funky cool as a substitute. “All gay men come with a home decorator card, didn’t you know that?”

Will looked at him with a twist to his mouth—one of the few times Kenny had seen his expression less than open. “I sincerely doubt it,” he said drily. “I’m pretty sure it’s you—and I definitely like it.”

Kenny had no idea something without sexual innuendo could make him blush, but sure enough, his face heated and his hand grew slippery on his milk glass. He was suddenly glad he’d opted out of wine.

“What makes you think so?” he asked, looking down at his plate. He needed to take a bite of spaghetti, but he was painfully aware he’d put on a date shirt and taken off his apron. He didn’t want pasta on his date shirt, did he?

“Well, because you’re
you
,” Will said enthusiastically. “You’ve got an eye for things, for weird combinations that go together. Like that bowl, the indigo and the plain terra-cotta—that’s it, right? Terra-cotta?”

Kenny looked up at him and tried a real smile, but his throat swelled up painfully instead. Will hadn’t said a word about the little gift Kenny had left on his shoes. Not
one word.
Kenny didn’t know what that meant—or he
did
know what that meant, and at the same time it made Will an
amazing
friend to hang out with, it made him a really shitty one to fall in love with.

Not love. He’s a friend.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Terra-cotta.” He was good at making things light—time to do that. “So how do you know it’s not the gay?”

It was Will’s turn to flush. For a moment he busied himself with his food, digging into his spaghetti and using the most excellent bread to sop up the sauce. He ate quietly and then looked up. Kenny had taken a bite himself in the intervening time, but when he’d finished chewing, he was still looking at Will, waiting patiently for an answer.

What he got was another question instead.

“Okay, so you know that bag you left on my shoes?”

Without ceremony or parachute, Kenny’s heart dropped into his balls and his balls dropped to the floor. “Uhm, yeah.”

“Can you be gay if you only use some of what was in there?”

Kenny blinked and tried to remember
exactly
what had been in that incriminating little bag. “You can be gay even if you don’t use
anything
that was in there,” Kenny said, some of his embarrassment and anxiety giving way to confusion. “Why?”

Will’s expression turned inward and he gave sort of a sweet, simple smile. “Oh!” he said. “Good—that’s a load off my mind. Thanks!”

And with that he started ripping into his food with his usual enthusiasm, leaving Kenny floundering. He’d promised
not to pry, hadn’t he? He’d… he’d promised himself
not to pressure the guy! But… he just couldn’t
leave
it there, right? Just… he… omigod….

“
Will
!” Kenny said, his voice strangled.

Will looked up from his spaghetti guilelessly, a hunk of bread in his mouth. “Whmf?”

“Was there anything
else
you wanted to ask me?”

Will’s big brown eyes made one of those careful explorations for the secrets of the universe that might possibly lie in the interior of his mind. They rolled left, then right, then down, then right, and then they looked at Kenny again.

“Well, that, uhm, that plug thing?”

Kenny slurped in a noodle and spattered sauce all over his face
and
his unexpected date shirt. “Yeah?” he said, wiping his face off with his napkin.

“Do they have anything…
smaller
? ’Cause I clench up when I look at that thing.”

Kenny closed his eyes and sucked on the end of the napkin, getting it thoroughly wet. Behind his eyes, the vision of Will naked, lying on a bed with his thighs spread, making tentative forays with the butt plug, repeated like an X-rated GIF.

“There, uhm,” he murmured, “are
no
plugs smaller than that one.” He dabbed at his shirt with the wet end of the napkin. “Uhm, if you think about how men are, uhm, built,
nobody
is smaller, uhm, in the
penile
area, than that plug.”

Will stopped chewing for a moment, and his eyeballs did that careful exploration for the secrets of the universe again. “Oh.
Oh. Ooooohhh.
Okay. I mean, I looked at the pictures and all, but, you know, the plug just looks bigger in life than the picture of the, erm, penile things, even the big ones like mine.”

Oh God. Kenny wrapped his hand around his milk glass. When his fingers didn’t touch, he looked up at Will and tried not to swallow his tongue. “Uhm, how big a, erm,
penile
thing are you talking here, Will?” And omigod! The secrets of the universe were
not
right beyond Kenny’s right shoulder!

Will looked at the milk glass and then wrapped
his
hand around it. He had really big hands—his finger and thumb touched and overlapped a little. Will squinted one eye, adjusted his hand, and pulled his thumb and forefinger apart so they weren’t quite touching. Then he eyeballed the height of the glass and stroked his hand unmistakably up until it hovered about two inches over the brim.