"What was he like?"
Calix smiled, love and sadness glowing in his eyes. "He was…soft. That's the best description for him. He had a soft body, a big heart, a gentle character. He loved with all his heart, never held back. I don't think that was even a possibility for him. He wasn't wired that way. Everybody liked him, and he was friends with everyone and their mother. Not that he was perfect, far from it. He was chronically late, often forgot appointments or dates, he was chaotic, and every time he'd cooked, the kitchen looked like a tornado had gone through it. Seriously, just for making soup, he'd use every bowl in the house. I still don't know how he did it."
"He sounds amazing…"
"He was. For me, at least. I'm… I'm not an easy person to live with. Or an easy person to love."
Rhett frowned. What was Calix talking about?
Calix chuckled. "Trust me, I'm not. I'm a workaholic, and Matthew was often frustrated about that. Once I focus on something, it's really hard for me to let go before it's finished. And I'm not naturally a slob because I do appreciate order and structure and neatness, but I rarely make the time. Or I should say, I prioritize other things."
"Your house looks spotless."
"Yeah, because I had a cleaning service stop by yesterday. If you'd been here a couple of days ago, you would've turned right back around. But no way was I receiving you in such a mess."
Rhett felt strangely honored Calix had gone through so much trouble for him, but it bothered him as well. "I appreciate that, but I wouldn't have judged you for it. Maybe that makes no difference to you because it's something you thought you had to do, but next time… If there is a next time. I don't want to assume there is, but hypothetically, if there is… I don't want you to have to pretend. If I've learned one thing over the last five years, it's that pretending to be okay gets you absolutely nowhere. Especially with friends. And maybe I'm being presumptuous, but it feels to me like we're becoming friends."
"You ramble when you're nervous," Calix said with a smile.
Rhett sighed and rolled his eyes at himself. "I'm well aware, but I can't seem to stop myself once I've started. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. I think it’s sweet."
"Oh, okay."
"And you weren't being presumptuous. We are becoming friends. In fact, we already are."
"Yeah?" A light switched on inside him, illuminating a part that had been in shadows for years.
"Yes, absolutely. And I appreciate what you said about not pretending. I have to warn you, though, that's not easy for me. The number of people I can be myself with is limited. I think Del"—a flash of frustration passed over Calix's face —"the president is one of the few. And Milan."
"It's okay if you call him by his first name in conversations like this. I won't think anything of it. You've been best friends for a long time. Like, if Levar were to get a position like that, I doubt I'd be able to call him by his title rather than his name. Hell, I would probably call him 'babe' on live TV."
Calix burst out laughing. "I'd love to see that."
Rhett grinned. "Maybe you should try that when you're in a boring meeting or someone is being a pain in the ass. Call the president babe and see what happens."
Calix snorted. "That would make for an interesting meeting for sure."
Rhett finished his mojito, then put the glass on the table. Calix immediately went back to the kitchen to fix them another one. The conversation flowed easily as they exchanged stories about college, movies they loved, music they listened to, funny interactions with friends or strangers.
After the mojito, Calix made him a Gunga Din—some variation on a gin and tonic with pineapple juice in it—then a Garibaldi, which had a bitter orange aftertaste. Rhett loved them all, and soon, it was after midnight, and he was drunk. Not tipsy, not buzzed, but absolutely drunk. And so was Calix, it seemed. His cheeks were red, his eyes a tad glassy, and he was laughing way too hard at Rhett's lame jokes.
He hadn't felt this carefree in a long time. Probably not since college. And even if it wouldn't last, if it was just for one night, it still was an amazing experience. For one night, he wasn't fragile and vulnerable but funny. Witty. Entertaining. Calix laughed at his stories, was interested in what he had to say, listened, and reciprocated with his own stories. They were equals, and Rhett loved every second of their time together.
"I have to go home," he said, though he really didn't want to. When he got to his feet, he wavered a little, then found his balance again.
"Yeah," Calix said. Was it Rhett's imagination, or was that one word filled with regret? Not something he could ask.
He fumbled with his phone as he ordered an Uber. God, that would cost him. He should've thought of that before he got this drunk. "It'll be here in four minutes."
"Okay."
He grabbed his things, leaving all the leftovers with Calix. The last thing he needed was to fall flat on his ass, trying to carry stuff while being dead drunk.
Calix walked him to the door, his face unreadable. Rhett put on his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. "Thank you."
He didn't know what else to say.
"You're welcome."
Apparently, neither did Calix. They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Calix opened the door for him.
"I guess I'll see you Monday," Rhett said. His good mood was evaporating rapidly. Did Calix already regret what they had shared? He pushed that thought down. "Or maybe over the weekend. The president asked me to stop by to take some photos of them in the residence."
"Okay."
He was already two steps out the door when Calix grabbed his arm. "Wait."
Rhett turned around slowly on unsteady legs. Calix was much closer than he'd expected, and he stumbled, but Calix held both of his shoulders. His eyes were intense, and Rhett's stomach did a funny little tumble.
Calix cupped his cheeks and pressed his lips against Rhett's mouth. The kiss was soft and sweet, innocent and chaste, but Rhett’s heart went into overdrive, his body tingling all over at the contact.
It lasted seconds at most, but it felt like forever when Calix pulled back. He stared at Rhett intently, then whispered, "Thank you for making this day bearable."
17
Calix had studiously avoided looking in the mirror all day. He didn't need a reminder of how badly he had fucked up the day before. What on earth had he been thinking, getting that drunk with Rhett, sharing way too much, and worst of all, kissing him? He'd fucking kissed him. He groaned for the twentieth time that day, burying his face in his hands. He'd been so, so stupid.
"You okay?"
He jerked his head up. Dammit, why did it have to be the very last person he wanted to see him like this? "Just a headache," he told Del, who had managed to slip into his office without Calix noticing.
The West Wing was empty the day after Thanksgiving, most staffers having taken the day off. Calix had come in, and so had Del, though he didn't have any appointments and had said he wanted to use the time to catch up on some reading. Like Calix, he was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt rather than his usual formal suit.