“You’re allowed to miss him, you know?” Bruce says from behind me. He’s hugging me on the sofa. He likes to cuddle, snuggle, spoon. Any kind of contact. I like it too. Mainly. It’s different.
“Sorry, what do you mean?” He shouldn’t know about my non-relationship with Dex. We haven't talked about him even once.
“Your ex-boyfriend, Holden? You’re allowed to miss him. When you start a new relationship, it’s normal to think of the last one, especially when you broke up not because love was gone but because the future wasn’t in the cards.”
Holden, right. That’s who I miss, who I should be missing.
I shift to get free of his hold. I’m uncomfortable touching Bruce, but I don’t want him to feel rejected. He can be a little too pushy, especially about my emotional well-being. He checks in a lot and likes to process and discuss where we are emotionally. I wonder how he survived in the army. Was he checking in all the freaking time?
I need to change the subject. I don’t need more reason to feel so hollow while being in his arms. “Don’t you have a session with Virginia today?”
“Shit, you’re right! And I think her best friend is driving her today. He’s a little intense. The way he looks at me, I’m not sure if he wants to fuck me or kill me.”
That would be Dex. Pretty sure he wants to kill him.
“Want me to drive you? I can wait for you if that’s the only appointment you have today.” Does it count as trying to see someone if you run into him at your boyfriend’s clinic?
“No, that’s fine, thanks, sweetie. I’ll meet you back here afterward.” Sweetie. Internally, I roll my eyes at the term of endearment I don’t understand. I’m not sweet, nor sugary. I don’t even smell like vanilla. It irks me every time he says it. Is that what Dex felt when I called him babe?
Bruce kisses me before he leaves a few minutes later, and in a way, I’m relieved. I shouldn’t be. He’s a great guy—even if he calls me sweetie. It’s not his fault if he doesn’t feel right to my touch and doesn’t smell like Christmas.
I keep busy while he’s gone. Bruce is a little messy, but that’s okay. Isn’t picking up socks and camouflage T-shirts off the floor after one month in a relationship the dream of every man? My arms are full of his shit: sweaters, pants, socks. It never ends. I have the feeling he’s doing so to get me to give him a drawer or some space, but that’s going a little too fast for me.
* * *
I’m still picking up things when I’m startled by a knock on my door. I open it, not thinking it could be anybody but Bruce. Of course it’s not Bruce. My heart stops when I see Dex at my door. I thought about him so much, it’s like I summoned the devil.
“Hey.” His eyes narrow on the stack of camouflage clothes I’m carrying, and a sad smile spreads on his face, as if he knows those aren’t mine.
I throw Bruce’s laundry behind the door and put out my hand to greet Dex. It’s awkward—we never shook hands before—but he looks at it and gives me a confused look. That’s where we are now. Two gays awkwardly shaking hands.
“I’m sorry, I should have texted. I see you’re busy,” he says, avoiding my gaze. His shoulders are slumped and he’s looking at my now-empty hands.
“No, it’s cool, man. Bruce isn’t here.” Man? What the fuck am I saying? My stomach is in knots, my head in a fog.
“I know.” He juts his chin. Of course he knows. He drove Virginia to PT. “I was wondering if you had time for coffee?” He slouches and tugs his chin.
We called it quits five weeks ago and not once has he texted me or said anything to me. Not that I reached out either.
“Are you okay?”
His silence is my answer.
“Okay, Dex. Let me put on some shoes. I’ll be right back.”
I’m mortified when I realize I slammed the door on him. But what should I do now? Open it and apologize? That would only make the situation worse. I hurry to get my shoes on and get back outside, where he’s casually leaning on the pole on my front step. Looking so good is inhuman.
“Great place you have here.” Great small talk we’re having.
“Are you here to talk about my house?” I shoot back.
He shrugs. Something is definitely wrong with my boy. Well, not mine. Any other day, Dex would have bitten back.
“Dextyn, what the fuck is going on?”
He freezes at hearing his full name. “I need a reason to check on a friend?” His voice hardens, and he walks away in a heavier gait than usual.
I catch up to him quickly. “No, but are we friends? We haven’t spoken in over a month.”
He ignores my remark altogether. “How are things with Brandon?”
“His name is Bruce, and they’re fine. Great, they’re great!” I rub my sweating hands on my jeans, taking a quick breath. What the fuck is happening? I feel the same way as when I came out to my parents. My mouth is dry, my heart is palpitating, and I want to flee. This is ridiculous. It’s just Dex. The guy I fucked senseless. The guy who has no patience, no time to bullshit, but can be so vulnerable he steals my heart.
“Are you lying to yourself or to me? I mean, if you’re happy, I’m happy for you, but please don’t sweeten the truth to prove he’s better than me. That’s disrespectful.”
He can be such an ass. That’s what should have been on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I blurt, “He doesn’t do anal.”
Am I under the spell of his peppermint scent or something? I just admitted what bothers me the most about Bruce to the one guy who has the power to bring me to orgasm in two minutes. I blink. My stomach quivers.
“Ah…” His voice is impassive as if it’s none of his business, which it’s not. He’s right to be expressionless.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I told you that. I’m…” Rambling, that’s what I’m doing. “Fuck. What can I do for you?” I scratch my beard, trying to keep my hand busy so I don’t touch him.
Dex shakes his head, certainly trying to forget what I just disclosed. “You told me once that what I tell you stays between us, right?”
I nod. What I said was that what he tells while he’s in my arms stays between us, but I can’t really remind him of the fine print.
He stops and turns toward me, still avoiding my eyes. “I mean, you and I don’t need to be involved or whatever for you to keep something to yourself?”
That’s when he finally looks at me. His eyes are red and filled with tears. He gulps heavily to swallow them back. I step closer and put my hands on his shoulders, but he flinches and steps back right away. It pains me that we’re so distant when we used to be so close.
“What’s going on, babe?” It slipped. I close my eyes and sigh. He sighs as well. My face, neck, and ears feel hot. Thank God my face is hairy or he would see me blush. Since when do I blush? I look at his eyes. They’re tired and sad, and I can’t stop wondering who has been taking care of him these past weeks.
He chews his cheek and sighs again. “My father is sick. We don’t know what’s going on. It’s been five weeks or so. I’ve been sending him to every freaking doctor in the state and nothing. We don’t know. He feels dizzy. Not every day, but he can’t really stand or walk without getting vertigo of some sort. I need to leave tomorrow and fix it.” His voice breaks, and he lets out a sob.