Etienne opened his eyes and shook his head. “I—I’m sorry, Cary. I can’t—I’m not. I don’t understand why you say I am. I’m not like you, I can’t be. And every time you say I am, it’s like—it hurts. Because you’re wrong. Why can’t you see that?”
Adam sighed. “What I can’t see is why you make it such a big deal.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never had to live with looking like this,” Etienne flung at him, and instantly regretted it when Adam flinched.
“That’s not fair.” His voice was nearly inaudible.
Etienne knew he should apologize. The guilt choked him, and he opened his mouth but the words wouldn’t come.
“Maybe I should just go home,” Adam said quietly. His eyes were sad and Etienne’s heart cracked down the middle. He couldn’t breathe.
It was for the best. A clean cut, quick excision. Adam could find someone better than Etienne in a heartbeat, with a snap of his fingers.
When Etienne said nothing, Adam nodded.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, and walked away.
Etienne watched him go, a dull, cold lump in his chest.
He went home alone and curled up in cold sheets that didn’t smell like Adam because Adam had never been to his apartment. Would never be at his apartment, because people like Adam didn’t belong with people like Etienne.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. Etienne pressed his face into the pillow, lonely, exhausted, and still half-drunk, and let the tears flow.
12
He was roused by knocking about thirty minutes later. Etienne lifted his head, blinking owlishly. Only Rudy knew his address, but he’d have called first.
He stumbled for the door, swinging it open to behold Adam on the other side, hand raised to knock again.
Etienne stared at him.
“I was thinking,” Adam said urgently. “I was thinking about what you said, about how I assume things and don’t talk about them. And I realized—do you think we just broke up, Etienne?”
Etienne couldn’t remember how to speak. He brushed at his face, struggling to form a sentence.
“Tenny, please,” Adam said. “Please answer the question.”
“Yeah,” Etienne finally managed, his voice rough. “I mean… yeah. Of c-course.”
Adam stepped closer and Etienne drew back.
“That’s not what happened,” Adam said. “That’s not—Tenny, I left to give you some room. To think about stuff. What I said. I was going to call you tomorrow and see how you were feeling and when I could see you again. But then I realized where your mind would go, and—I don’t want to break up with you. I don’t want to lose you, I’ve barely even had you yet. I’m not leaving unless you kick me out, tell me to my face you don’t want me, and you’d better make it believable because I know you do.” He set his mouth in a hard line, folding his arms as he waited for an answer.
Etienne fumbled through the haze of exhaustion and grief. “You… you’re not?” Not leaving me, not breaking up with me? “Why not?”
Pain crossed Adam’s face. “Because I don’t see you the way you see you,” he said. He took a step forward again and this time Etienne held his ground. “I see a man who’s fought hard for what he’s achieved, who’s strong and tough and yet so surprisingly kind. A man who flips every single switch I possess and some I didn’t know I possessed. How can you not see that I’m attracted to you, Tens, when half the time I forget what I’m going to say when you get close enough to touch me, or run into things because I’m distracted by you?” He stopped, frowning. “That last one happened when I wasn’t with you. But my point stands.”
“You ran into something? Because of me?”
Adam’s eyes sparked with brief amusement. “Specifically, the wall after working out with Jake. I was thinking about you and high on endorphins and just—smack—head-first. He thought it was hilarious, of course.”
Etienne didn’t know what to say. He’d never been the sort of person who fogged others’ minds with lust or want. He couldn’t fathom it. But here Adam was, saying to his face that he’d gotten so turned on thinking about Etienne that he’d walked into a solid surface.
He reached out and hauled Adam through the door, kicking it shut behind them.
“Oh, thank Christ,” Adam gasped. He hurled himself forward into Etienne’s arms, shaking all over, pressing quick, desperate kisses up and down his throat. “I thought I’d lost you, I thought I’d been unbearably stupid again and you wouldn’t take me back—”
Etienne caught his chin, mindful of the bruise, and slammed their lips together. It was rough and needy, hard enough to make Adam whimper, their tongues meeting and breath mingling as they gasped against each other’s mouths.
Etienne stepped back, pulling Adam with him down the short hall and into the dark bedroom. He didn’t stop when his legs hit the edge of the bed, tumbling over backward with Adam still in his arms.
They landed with a thump that strained the bedsprings and made Adam giggle before he resumed kissing Etienne’s throat and up his jaw.
“You have such a lovely neck,” he murmured between kisses.
“My Adam’s apple is too prominent,” Etienne said.
Adam laid a careful kiss on it. “I like it. And your jaw, and your mouth—”
“It’s shaped funny,” Etienne said, unable to stop prodding, like poking a bruise. “My upper lip is pointy but thin and my lower lip is fuller, it’s weird, I have big teeth and my smile shows too much gum—”
Adam put a finger to his lips, shutting him up. “Stop it,” he said. “I love your mouth, and your smile. I don’t love the way you put a hand over your mouth when you smile, though, because I’m betting someone somewhere made a jab about it and that’s why you’re so self-conscious.”
Etienne lifted a shoulder, seeing no reason to argue.
“Your mouth is beautiful,” Adam said. “And I want to see it wrapped around my cock.”
Etienne sucked in a startled breath, hips bucking up involuntarily.
Adam lifted his head, suddenly serious. “I need to know something.”
Etienne braced himself.
“Can you do this?”
“What, have sex with you?”
Adam coughed a laugh. “No. This. Us.” He rolled off Etienne’s body and crossed his legs on the mattress as Etienne sat up slowly. “I need to know,” Adam continued. “Are you going to carry this with you always, this self-hatred, the way you constantly compare yourself to me and come up short? Because I—” He faltered, rubbing his face. “I don’t think I can do that. Even aside from the way it poisons you, I don’t think I can live with the… the guilt of being ‘the good-looking one’ while you silently hate yourself. I know that sounds shallow, but—you’d end up resenting me, I think. Eventually.”
Etienne swallowed hard. “I’ve never—” God, this was stupid-hard to say. “I’ve never f-found anyone worth putting it down for,” he managed. “I don’t—” Adam took his hand, eyes silently encouraging. “I don’t know if I know how.”