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The first
time they had sex was almost the last. If Chris'd had his way, it would've
been the last.
In fact,
if he could've figured out a way--short of calling Lonnie--he would've
gotten Nick out of the condo before he even woke up, but that was kind
of difficult considering that Nick was sleeping half on top of Chris's
back, flattening him face-first to the mattress, one arm wrapped tight
around Chris's waist like he thought Chris was some kind of human teddy
bear.
Chris figured
it was probably a good thing, really. Nick crushing him like that kept
him from hyperventilating over the fact that Nick Fucking Carter
was naked in his bed. Naked and asleep and... snuggling. That was really
the only word for it, with the way Nick had his face pressed against Chris's
shoulder. And that was just a little too much for Chris to take at ass-crack
of dawn on a Saturday morning. Chris squinted up at the clock against
the sunlight streaming through the slats of the blinds. Or, you know,
11:37 AM, if you really wanted to get technical about it.
Breathe.
Just breathe. You're so fucking fucked. No, just breathe.
It only took
a minute or five to get calm enough to ease out from under Nick and over
to the edge of the bed. Chris rolled onto his back carefully and looked
at Nick, who was still, thankfully, fast asleep. And yep, naked. As naked
as Chris. Definitely naked under that sheet, and although Chris's brain
was spinning like a top trying to figure out a way out of this, he couldn't
help but be a little distracted by the tattoos spread out over all that
tanned skin. Not like he hadn't seen them before, what with all the surfing
and boating they'd been doing lately, but he'd never seen them like this,
naked in his bed in the morning, when he could practically still taste
the salt of Nick's skin on his tongue from the night before.
Chris closed
his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the awful sight of Nick's naked body
taunting him from under the rumpled sheet. What had he been thinking?
Hanging out with Nick Carter, that was one thing. Going with him to check
out a new tattoo parlor, meeting up at the marina and heading out on the
boat for a day of fishing and swimming, perfectly normal. Having him over
for pizza and beer, playing Halo with him until 2 AM, that was all fine.
Especially when you considered that none of the guys were around this
summer, that they barely even lived in Florida anymore, what the hell
was he supposed to do?
But somehow,
last night things had gotten on a different track, and Chris still wasn't
sure how. Because offering to let Nick stay over since it was so late
and they'd had so much to drink was perfectly sane, but then feeding him
some lame line in the hallway outside the bedroom door? Pushing Nick back
against the wall so suddenly that he yelped, then giggled? Climbing
him like a tree to reach his lips? That was inexcusable.
That was
going to ruin everything.
The sound
of Nick stirring yanked Chris back to the present. He stared as Nick started
to wake up, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks, candy-red lips opening
wide, wider in a huge yawn as he stretched like a big, golden cat.
So. Fucked.
And in about
one second, Chris was going to have to face it, say it, whatever was going
to need to be said. "It's been fun, see ya around sometime," maybe? Or,
"Who are you and how did you get in my house?" Something that would get
Nick up and out, even if he got mad, something that would make it really,
really clear that Chris didn't do this kind of thing. This relationship
thing. There must be something he could say.
But his mind
was blank, and Nick was starting to sound like he was really waking up.
So Chris did the only thing he could do. He rolled off the bed before
Nick opened his eyes, grateful that he'd insisted on carpet in the bedroom
when his decorator had wanted wood.
Still, the
thud must've woken Nick the rest of the way up, because a second later
came a confused, "Chris?" And God, Chris really didn't need to know that
Nick's voice was almost a full octave deeper when he first woke up, he
really did not need to know that. "Chris, are you down there?"
And then
there was a messy tangle of blond hair over the edge of the bed, and then
Nick was blinking down at Chris with a bemused look. "Did you fall out
of bed, dawg?" Nick didn't wait for an answer, just reached down and grabbed
Chris's hand to pull him back up.
Chris yanked
his hand back, sat up quick and scooted backwards, shielding his dick
from Nick's view. "I'm good, I'm fine, uh, how'd you sleep?" Not what
he'd meant to say, and breathe, breathe.
Nick sat
up and leaned back against the headboard, his naked skin glowing in the
sunlight in a most distracting way. "I slept great. This bed is really
comfortable."
"Uh, thanks,"
Chris managed, not pointing out that Nick hadn't exactly been sleeping
on the mattress. "Um, do you wanna, like, don't you have stuff to..."
Nick smiled.
"Naw, man. I'm free all afternoon." He covered another yawn with one hand
before he continued, "You busy?"
Chris nodded
as he spoke. "No, pretty much free all day." Damn. Damn. On top of everything
else, sleeping with Nick Carter had apparently made it impossible for
him to tell a lie. Even a lie that would've saved them both so much trouble,
because now Nick was going to want to hang out and talk, go over
things, figure out what it meant and all that shit. Dani had always
wanted to talk, but even she hadn't loved talking like JC had loved talking.
And Chris was really bad at that kind of talking.
But Nick
didn't seem to care about Chris's crisis. "Cool, so we can hang out for
awhile, and then..." he broke off to stretch again, and Chris winced at
what was surely coming next, but he waited for Nick to say it, "then maybe
we can go out to Grand Prix and hit the batting cages or something, after
breakfast? I haven't been in a long time. Or dude, the go-karts. Yeah?"
Chris blinked.
Batting cages? Go-karts? Not talking about this... this whatever they'd
done last night that left them both naked and exhausted in bed afterwards?
And now that he let himself think about that--even in the most fleeting
way--he had to say that what they'd done had been a lot of fun. A lot.
"Uh, yeah.
Sure." He cleared his throat. "That sounds... fun." He tried not to stare
as Nick dug around under the sheet for his boxers. God, but the boy was
fine. And he knew his way around a guy, too. Chris's mouth went dry at
the memory of being kissed until he'd almost passed out, then those lips
on his dick, those fingers touching him just the right way in all the
right places, even a few spots he hadn't ever really thought about until
last night. "Yeah," he said weakly as Nick stood up beside the bed, towering
over him. "Go-karts."
Nick grinned
down at him and offered a hand to help Chris stand up. This time, Chris
took it. Pulling him up, Nick leaned forward and kissed him quick and
firm on the lips, too fast for Chris to start freaking out again, then
let go and turned towards the bedroom door. "So, you get the Cartoon Network
in this place?"
He left Chris
standing naked by the bed, watching Nick Carter's fine, fine ass walk
away, clad only in boxers.
Damn.
***
So that was
how it started. Except not really, as Chris reminded himself on a near-daily
basis, because there wasn't any "it" to start. They weren't dating. They
were simply hanging out. A lot. The hot sex was an unexpected bonus. But
not in a relationship kind of way. Just... fuck buddies. Yeah. That sounded
good.
It wasn't
that Chris didn't know how to love people. He loved with the same fervor
and energy with which he approached everything in his life, so hard that
it sometimes overwhelmed people. He knew how to love. But that was his
friends. His family. Romance was a whole different thing. Once sex was
involved, things always seemed to fall apart--no matter how much he cared.
He knew people
always said you should be friends first, but that never seemed to work
right for him. Even with someone he'd known for years, he'd find himself
getting anxious, pushing them away, doing stupid shit to keep them from
getting closer, until they finally gave in and split. He didn't blame
them. And really, it was probably for the best, because then he could
sometimes--usually--go back to being friends with them. He was a good
friend. But when it came to being a boyfriend? Not so good, apparently.
He never
really talked about it, but he was fiercely proud of his friendships with
Dani and JC. It hadn't been easy, but it was so much better now that they
were his friends instead of anything else. But it'd been a while since
he'd even tried for more than a date or two, or a one-night-stand, so
sleeping with Nick seemed like a bad, bad idea. If he let himself think
about it, which he didn't, much.
But as was
quickly becoming obvious to him, he didn't have to think about it to do
it.
***
Chris loved
to ride his bike out to Marathon, so once he was down there Nick usually
ended up driving them around in his Jeep. Nick was a decent driver, except
he had a tendency to slow down whenever he tried to talk and drive at
the same time, which made Chris want to reach over and punch the gas himself.
Chris flipped
through Nick's CD book, looking for something worth listening to. "Man.
You must have every CD Bryan Adams ever made." He turned another page.
"In your car."
Nick grinned
and nodded happily. "Those are my old ones. Howie gave me a whole set
of autographed ones last Christmas."
Chris rolled
his eyes. "I don't think I could ever date anyone with that much Bryan
Adams in his music collection." He dodged the smack Nick aimed at his
head. "Hey, eyes on the road, dude!"
Nick slapped
at him again, hitting him this time. "Good thing we're not dating, then,"
Nick said with a smile.
Chris gave
him a withering look and turned back to the CDs. "Ooh, Journey," he said,
sliding Escape out of the sleeve and into the CD player.
***
They'd been
hanging out since late spring, when Nick and Howie had shown up one Tuesday
at Firestone while Chris was hosting. It had been a while since Chris
had seen Nick, probably not since Rock and Jock the year before, but he
seemed... different. Happier. Smiling all the time, and not that sharp
smile Chris remembered. Just comfortable in his skin.
When Nick
heard Chris'd bought a condo in Miami, he laughed and asked if Chris was
retired now. Somehow they'd gotten from there to making golf plans, and
since then they'd hung out regularly, at least once a week or so, in Miami
or the Keys.
Justin had
laughed when he'd found out who Chris was spending so much time with.
Joey had teased Chris about trading in one blond sidekick for another.
Lance had been suspicious at first, until Chris had reminded him that
there weren't exactly any group secrets to protect at the moment.
JC had called
Chris to ask if the rumors about Nick were true.
"What rumors,
C?"
"You know.
That he's... a big boy."
"What?"
"I've heard
he's hung. I don't need details. Just... yes or no?" JC sounded hopeful.
"Dude, we're
not fucking!" Chris stared at the phone. This was so not happening.
"You're not?"
"Don't sound
so disappointed."
The subject
had shifted then, but before they'd hung up, JC had asked, "So, when you
find out, will you tell me?"
Chris had
hung up without saying goodbye.
Six weeks
later, he bit the bullet and dialed JC's number, making sure to call several
hours before JC would be awake. Maybe he wouldn't even remember it when
he woke up.
"It's true,"
he mumbled, hoping C would think it was a wrong number.
He could
still hear JC's squeal of glee after he hung up a second later.
***
Chris took
Nick to his favorite used CD store, CD Warehouse on Biscayne. Buy ten
CDs, get the eleventh free. Justin always teased him about how he loved
the place, but it wasn't about the money. It was the thrill of finding
unexpected treasures.
"Cool," Nick
said when he saw the bins of classic rock. Chris headed over to the indie
section.
While they
were waiting to check out, he passed judgment on Nick's choices. "The
Eagles, cool. The Cars, very cool. Meatloaf, uh, no comment. ZZ Top? Man."
He shook his head.
"What? They're
great," Nick protested. "What are you getting?"
Chris showed
him. "Sleater-Kinney. Old 97s. Mike Ness. Elastica."
Nick shrugged.
"Whatever, man."
"Hey, it's
better than Bad Company." Chris gestured at the rest of Nick's stack of
discs.
One corner
of Nick's mouth quirked up. "I dunno, dawg. Bad Company seems pretty appropriate
right now."
***
"Incoming!"
Chris yelled, taking a flying leap over the back of his sofa to tackle
Nick. The bowl of popcorn bounced out of Nick's lap and onto the floor,
spilling everywhere.
"You fucker,"
Nick panted, struggling to free his arms from where Chris had them trapped
against his sides.
Chris held
on tighter, pushing Nick down into the cushions and laughing in his ear.
With a grunt, Nick arched up off the sofa and dumped Chris onto the floor,
falling after him.
Still laughing,
Chris flipped over onto his belly and started to scramble away, but Nick
grabbed him by the belt and dragged him back. Throwing himself onto Chris's
back, Nick yelled "Steamroller!" and rolled to one side, then the other,
forcing most of the air out of Chris's lungs.
It was great.
One of the
best things about wrestling with Nick was that he never went easy on Chris.
He fought as dirty as Joey and his reflexes were as quick as Justin's.
Nick said it was from growing up as the oldest of five in his family and
the youngest of five in his band.
Most other
guys Chris had known, besides his guys, had assumed that because
Chris was shorter, they had to be more careful. Those people usually ended
up getting hurt, because they didn't fight back hard enough. Nick didn't
have that problem.
It had been
a while since Chris had been around someone he could let himself go with.
He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until the first time he'd pantsed
Nick, on the boat, and Nick had just tossed Chris over his shoulder and
then unceremoniously heaved him overboard, fully clothed.
Still pinning
Chris from behind, Nick grabbed the back of Chris's head and pushed his
face into a pile of popcorn on the rug. "You give, Kirkpatrick?" He was
breathing heavy, and it might be from the roughhousing, but Chris felt
something hot coiling in his belly at the sound.
"What if
I don't, Carter?" He wiggled his ass, and heard Nick's sharp intake of
breath. Yeah. "You gonna make me sorry?"
Nick was
panting in Chris's ear. When he spoke again, his voice was deeper. "You
know you're asking for it, don't you?"
Chris shivered.
Oh, yeah. If this was wrong, he didn't want to be right. He twisted around,
and Nick lifted up to let him flip over, and then they were kissing, open-mouthed,
and scrambling to open each other's pants, and another movie night was
shot all to hell.
***
They got
into an argument about the Ataris' version of "Boys of Summer." Nick thought
it was blasphemy. He had big love for 80s music, and he said it was okay
to cover songs like that in concert, but not to record them. Chris laughed
at that distinction and said he thought the new version was better than
the original. Nick put him in a headlock and made him take it back, then
kicked his ass at foosball for good measure.
So the mix
was mostly a joke. After the Bryan Adams incident, and the trip to CD
Warehouse, Chris thought maybe he should do Nick a favor and try to save
him from himself. It's not that his taste in music was bad, exactly...
no, actually, Chris reconsidered. It was bad.
It was an
eclectic mix. Everything from Veruca Salt to Johnny Cash, and he figured
if he was going to do it he might as well go all the way, so he included
Old 97s and Nine Inch Nails, too. Maybe it would've been better to combine
it with stuff he knew Nick already liked, more user-friendly or whatever,
but there was something to be said for a shock to the system.
He had a
couple of minutes left at the end so he added Dynamite Boy's version of
"I Want it That Way," though surely Nick had heard it before. If you got
right down to it, he put some of the stuff on there to try to freak Nick
out. Not that he'd ever admit that to Nick. But he kinda hoped.
Nick raised
one eyebrow when Chris hopped into the Jeep and handed the CD over. "Why
am I not surprised?"
Chris tried
to put on an innocent look.
"You like
so much different music, dude. How can you be such a snob?" Nick continued,
reading the tracklisting Chris had scrawled on the disc with a Sharpie.
Chris was
wounded. "I'm not a snob."
Nick shot
him a look. "You're... what is it? Intolerant."
"I just want
you to hear some of my favorite stuff. Is that so bad?"
Nick finally
laughed at Chris and tucked the CD above the driver's side sun visor.
"I'll play it on the way home tomorrow."
That night,
after dinner at Chris's favorite South Beach diner and a few hours spent
drinking beer and shooting pool, they fucked in Chris's bed with Journey's
greatest hits playing on the stereo. Afterwards, when Chris was drifting
off and Nick was humming along sleepily to "Open Arms," the music didn't
seem like such a big issue anymore.
***
One day Nick
stopped by to see if he wanted to go shopping. Chris laughed. "Shopping?
You got a date, man?"
"Yeah, right."
Nick stuck his foot out. "I need new sneakers."
"Dude, you're
not kidding." The toe of one of Nick's Chuck Taylors was wrapped in duct
tape. "Didn't you have any others to wear?"
Nick shrugged.
"These are still the most comfortable."
In the sneaker
store, Chris wandered off as Nick waited for the salesman to return with
a pair of shoes. Chris was standing in front of the Nike display when
his phone rang, and he had to laugh when he looked at the display.
"Hey J. You
must be psychic or something."
"Huh? Why,
you been talkin' about me?"
"I'm standing
in front of a huge pile of the prettiest sneakers you ever did see."
"Ohh..."
Chris heard the envy in Justin's voice. "You're shopping? Are you gonna
get me anything?"
"Man, I learned
a long time ago not to try to buy you shoes. You've already got 'em all."
Justin laughed.
"So what's up? You haven't called me all week. You been busy?"
Chris glanced
over to see Nick jumping around energetically, testing out a pair of shoes.
He turned back to the Nikes. "Uh, not really. Well, a little, I guess."
"Oh yeah?"
Justin prodded. "You still seeing Nick?"
Chris almost
dropped the phone. "First of all, I'm not seeing Nick," he hissed,
shooting a look furtively across the store, where Nick was pulling out
his wallet to pay for the shoes that were still on his feet. "We're just
hanging out. Okay?"
"I got my
sources, man," Justin gloated, like he always did when he thought he was
right. "So, you made him a mix yet?"
"What?" Chris
looked around to make sure Nick wasn't within earshot.
"A mix. You
have, right?"
"Maybe, but--What?
Shut up! I was trying to broaden his musical horizons a little."
Justin was
still laughing. "You're so gone, man. Wait'll I tell Lance."
Chris swore.
"You two are worse than teenage girls. No, wait, you are teenage
girls."
"You ready
to go, Chris?" Nick had snuck up on him somehow, all stealthy in his new
black Chucks.
Chris checked
them out. "Meet the new shoes, same as the old shoes, huh?"
Nick grinned.
"Why mess with perfection?" He looked at phone Chris was still holding.
"You busy, or you wanna go shoot some hoops? I want to break 'em in."
"Yeah, let's
go," he answered, grimacing as he heard the laughter coming from his phone.
"Call you back later, J."
"Tell your
boyfriend I said hi," Justin answered, right before Chris hung up.
Later, after
he'd whipped Nick at one-on-one, and the new shoes weren't looking quite
so pristine, they drove through at Wendy's and then parked by the beach.
Chris's mix was playing on the stereo, and the sun was going down as they
ate their burgers and Frosties in silence.
"You're not
my boyfriend, you know," Chris finally blurted out, staring out at the
water.
"Of course
I'm not." Nick's eyeroll was practically audible. "You gonna finish your
fries?"
***
Nick liked
to touch. Even when they weren't fucking, he was always touching Chris,
and Chris liked that.
Sometimes
it was like that first morning, waking up with Nick wrapped around him
like a vine, the two of them sweating wherever their bodies met, fingers
tangled together under the pillow. Other times, Chris would stretch himself
out over Nick like a blanket, tucking his head under Nick's chin and ignoring
Nick's complaints.
"Dawg, you're
too heavy to stay there."
"This is
what you get for being so big and comfy, Carter," he'd say, settling in.
"Can't...
breathe..." Nick would gasp dramatically, and Chris would poke him in
the ribs.
"Shut up
and let me sleep. I'm comfortable."
Sometimes
at that point Nick would flip Chris onto his back, pin him to the mattress,
and they'd go one more round. Other times, he'd simply chuckle and run
a big hand up and down Chris's back as Chris fell asleep.
Either way
was fine with Chris.
It wasn't
all about the bedroom, though. Nick was just a physically affectionate
guy, which made sense considering his background, and Chris understood
it thanks to his own. After all those years with the guys, Chris had often
felt inhibited around other friends who weren't quite as comfortable with
the constant touching and wrestling he'd grown used to. With Nick, that
was no problem. Even before they started sleeping together, Nick had often
slung his arm around Chris's shoulder when they sat side-by-side. Now,
he was just as likely to grab Chris's ass whenever it was within reach.
And Chris
wasn't complaining about that, either.
***
Even though
Chris finally had to admit to himself that they really were sleeping
together, he still congratulated himself almost daily that he wasn't falling
for Nick. He didn't need to fuck up another friendship with so-called
"romance," because he really liked hanging out with Nick.
They checked
out all the comic book stores they could find in the Miami yellow pages.
Nick was as enthusiastic as Chris, although he wrinkled his nose at Cerebus
the Earth Pig, Chris's favorite.
Nick's excitement
over anime reminded Chris that he'd heard Nick could draw. When Chris
asked him about it, he shook his head and grinned. "It's been forever,
dawg. I kinda got out of the habit."
Next time
Chris was at Nick's place, he asked again. Nick had to be coaxed, but
he finally pulled out a sketchbook and handed it over, then moved down
to the other end of the couch like he didn't want to be too close when
Chris looked at it.
The drawings
were good. Obviously unpracticed, but good, strong lines creating powerful
figures. Chris turned the pages of the sketchpad slowly. Pointing out
an intricate Asian-influenced design drawn in the center of one page,
Chris asked, "Is this a tattoo?"
Nick nodded.
"I'm still thinkin' about it. I want it to be right before I get it done,"
he said.
Chris looked
at the design some more. It drew him in, somehow, the strength of the
lines and the spaces in between. It made him wish he still had Fuman,
so he could ask Nick to do some drawings for him. And that was just...
strange. He'd never really wanted to talk to Nick about anything that
personal before, like his company. Losing his company.
Finally he
closed the book carefully and laid it aside on the end table next to the
sofa. Turning to Nick, he said quietly, "Those are great. You've got talent."
Nick looked
down for a moment and then glanced up at Chris. "Thanks," he said, finally.
"Like I said, it's been awhile..."
Chris waved
Nick's excuse away. "Yeah, but it's there. You just have to tap into it."
He shifted down the sofa some, and reached out for Nick's hand. "It's
all right in here," he said, touching Nick's fingers, rubbing lightly.
Those long, talented fingers.
Creativity
always turned him on. It was what had brought him and JC together at first,
and what had driven him to start Fumanskeeto.
It was what
was making him pull Nick towards him now.
***
One Saturday
in Miami they woke up to a monsoon, so they stayed in and watched Speed
Racer on Chris's big-screen TV. Chris had picked up the whole series for
Nick on DVD after being subjected to a rant about the Cartoon Network
never airing it anymore.
As the closing
credits began to play for the eighth time, Chris turned to face Nick on
the sofa. "What are you doing the last weekend of the month, man?"
Nick looked
surprised. They didn't usually plan stuff that far in advance. "I don't
know. What's up?"
Chris made
himself say the words without thinking them through first. "Why don't
you come to Challenge?"
Nick laughed
and waved his hand in Chris's direction. "Right."
"No," Chris
said. "I'm serious."
Nick just
shook his head and laughed some more.
"Why not?"
"Dude, I'm
scared of those *NSYNC fans," Nick finally said, when he stopped laughing.
"You got
nothing to be afraid of. They've never hurt O-Town."
Nick shot
him the glare of death. Chris shifted uneasily. "Okay, sorry. Sorry!"
Nick relaxed a little then, so Chris asked, "Really, though, why don't
you come?"
"And have
all your friends trying to pull me aside and give me relationship advice?
No thanks."
Chris opened
and closed his mouth. Then he cleared his throat. "My friends?"
Nick nodded.
"They need
to keep their mouths shut." Chris frowned. "It's not like we're, you know.
Like, a thing."
"No, it's
not," Nick agreed quietly, and started the next episode.
***
At the VIP
party the night before Challenge started, JC cornered him upstairs between
a table and the wall. "So, have you made him a mix yet?"
"Why the
hell does everyone keep asking me that?"
JC laughed,
and Chris was tempted to smack his skinny little ass, because he knew
that sunburn didn't stop at JC's waistline. He didn't even have to check.
"Dude, you
always make 'em a mix," JC giggled. "That's the first sign. Ask Justin
and Lance."
Chris tried
to look dignified. It was difficult, with JC leering at him like that.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said stiffly.
"Come on,
Chris. Lance and J noticed it a long time ago. Before we went to Europe,
even. Whenever you like someone, you know, like that, you always
make a mix."
Okay, technically,
that was true, Chris thought. But he wasn't gonna tell JC he was right.
JC leaned
a little closer and lowered his voice, "Honestly, the only reason I knew
you were really interested in me was because they told me what
it meant, when you made me that mix."
Chris looked
at JC incredulously. "You mean you couldn't tell from the way I was acting?"
"Dude, no.
I thought all that extra teasing was to try to get me to switch buses
or something. I had no idea."
Chris snagged
a beer from a passing waitress. "So I made him a mix. It doesn't mean
anything."
JC lifted
his eyebrows.
"What?"
"C'mon, man.
Maybe you don't want it to mean anything, but you know it means
something."
"It means
he has bad taste in music."
JC shrugged.
"I don't think he does. I liked his CD."
"You like
Bryan Adams."
"You do too.
Don't even start, Chris. I've heard you singing 'Summer of 69' way too
many times."
Chris bit
his lip.
JC set his
drink down on the table beside them and pulled Chris closer to the wall,
farther away from the crowd. "Listen. I know you're scared." JC glanced
around to make sure nobody was listening. "Don't freak yourself out. He
obviously likes you, you've been sleeping together for months and seeing
each other longer."
"I'm not
freaking out." JC made him sound like such a baby.
JC sighed
heavily. "Okay, this isn't Chris freaking out. This isn't you trying to
push him away because you think you like him too much, right?"
"I'm just
not good at relationships, all right? I suck at romance. Look at us. Look
at me and Dani."
"God, if
I weren't so sunburned I would totally kick your ass right now," JC replied.
Chris couldn't help but snicker at that. "Have you ever thought about
what Dani and I have in common? Why it didn't last with either of us?"
Chris stared
at JC. It hadn't lasted because he hadn't been able to make it
last. Because he sucked at the relationship thing. JC knew that. How could
he bring this up now, here? Was he trying to make Chris feel worse?
"It fell
apart because we worked together, you idiot." JC spoke slowly and
distinctly. "We were friends, and we were in love, and we worked together
too, and it was too much. Something had to give."
That... that
didn't make sense. Okay, maybe it would make sense for someone else, like
some normal person who worked with their boyfriend or girlfriend, but
that wasn't, couldn't be why he and JC hadn't made it. He and Dani.
Surely.
He needed
to think about this.
"You should've
brought him this weekend. It would've been fun," JC finally said, picking
up his drink again.
Chris frowned.
"I asked him. He's in California right now, though." He finished his beer
and set down his bottle. "I think I'm gonna go, man. I'll catch you later."
***
Nick came
back from his two weeks in LA full of stories about Tommy Lee and all
the cool bars and record stores they'd gone to.
He also came
back with pierced nipples.
"Whoa," Chris
said when Nick lifted his t-shirt to show them off, still sitting across
from Chris at the diner after they'd finished lunch. "Holy shit, didn't
that hurt?"
"Like a motherfucker,"
Nick grinned, lowering his shirt again, carefully. "Tommy came with me."
"Oh yeah?
I bet he got off on that," Chris sniped, before he could stop himself.
Nick blinked,
then frowned. "What's that supposed to mean, Chris?"
"Nothing.
Sorry." God. Way to go, Kirkpatrick.
Nick stared
at him a moment, then pushed his plate aside. He spread his hands out
on the table in front of him before he spoke. "Do you have something you
want to talk about?"
"Not really,"
Chris muttered, staring down at his plate.
Nick tapped
his fingertips on the tabletop, lightly. "You sure, dawg? Because I've
been getting the message loud and clear all summer, that you're not my
boyfriend"--the word was barely louder than a whisper--"and that's
fine, okay? I've been having fun. But now you're acting all jealous of
Tommy, and I just don't get it. Enlighten me, Chris."
Chris looked
up as Nick dragged a hand through his hair and let it fall back down into
his eyes. He looked sad, and that made Chris feel sad. Damn it. Not that
he knew how to fix it.
"I don't
know what to say, Nick," Chris finally answered. "I'm sorry, what I said
about Tommy."
Nick sighed.
"I just don't want... I mean, it's been good, right? And I figured we
could... well, keep it going, I guess, as long as it was fun. But now
it seems like you're not really into... whatever."
Chris bit
his lip. This is what he'd been dreading since the very first day. This
is why he hadn't wanted to get involved in the first place. But then he'd
gone and done it anyway, hadn't he?
Nick was
still talking. "I mean, I'm not mad. It's not like I don't want to hang
out anymore. I have a great time with you. But if the other stuff is,
you know, like you say, nothing..." He trailed off, then shrugged.
"If that's all it really is, maybe we need to forget that part."
Chris didn't
know if he could forget. The way Nick looked in the morning, with bedhead
and sleepy eyes. The way he laughed when he was turned on, and how that
always turned Chris on even more.
The way he
shivered under Chris's fingers and mouth.
Chris took
a deep breath. "I have a great time with you, too," he finally offered.
Nick smiled
sadly. "But..."
"I just don't
want to, you know, ruin it. With this." He gestured between them, hoping
Nick would somehow understand what he meant.
Chris fell
silent as the waitress came to gather up their empty plates. Nick sat
back from the table, stretching one arm along the top of his side of the
booth. Chris could see the outlines of the rings under his t-shirt.
When they
were alone again, Nick licked his lips. "Chris, this isn't easy for me,
either. But I have to tell you," he leaned forward and lowered his voice,
"it's not nothing. To me. If it really is to you, then I'd rather we quit
now and just go back to being friends." Nick looked down, then back up
at Chris. "Think about it?"
Chris nodded.
He had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot of thinking.
***
Chris heard
Nick's Jeep outside and went to the door. It was still hot out, even this
late in the evening. You'd never know from the weather that summer was
almost over, although Chris had lived in Florida long enough that he should
be used to it. He stood on the step with his hands in his pockets as Nick
walked up, a twelve-pack of beer in one hand and a paper sack from the
Latin American Cafeteria in the other.
"Hey, Nick.
It's good to see you."
"Hey, man,"
Nick answered, holding up the bag and the beer. "I brought dinner. Cuban
sandwiches."
They'd planned
for over a month to watch the Two Towers DVD the Tuesday it was released,
but Chris had still been surprised when Nick had called that afternoon
to confirm. "Yeah, of course," he'd answered, glad he'd picked up the
movie that morning while he was out. "Come whenever you like, I'll be
here." Neither of them had mentioned Nick spending the night.
Chris let
Nick into the house and took the beer to the fridge, snagging two cold
ones before he shut the door. Nick was pulling plates out of Chris's cabinet,
and for a second it felt just like all those other movie nights they'd
had, settling down with takeout for a night of Jackie Chan or an Indiana
Jones marathon. Chris opened the beers and handed one of them over, then
took a long swallow of his own, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.
"So, how
you been?" Chris asked as Nick put the sandwiches on plates. It was weird
not to have seen Nick for two weeks, since the day they'd talked in the
diner. It hadn't seemed like Nick was avoiding him, though, he'd just
been traveling a lot. "Nice haircut."
Nick grinned.
"Thanks. Figured I may as well, before these appearances I got coming
up."
"Vacation's
over, huh?"
"Guess so,"
Nick shrugged. "Time flies, right?" He took a bite of his sandwich.
Chris picked
his sandwich up and looked at it, then set it down again. He knew he didn't
have to do this now, but he thought he might have a better chance of eating
if he got it out of the way first. "Listen, Nick," he began, and then
stopped again when Nick looked up at him.
"Yeah?" Nick
set his sandwich down and took a drink from his beer.
"Uh, why
don't we go in the living room and get comfortable?" Not what he'd been
going to say, but Nick just raised an eyebrow, then gathered up his plate
and his beer and headed into the other room.
When Chris
followed, Nick was settled on the sofa with his plate on the coffee table
in front of him. Chris set his own dinner down and sat on the other end
of the couch. He took a deep breath.
"Nick, I
thought... Um." He took a deep breath. "I mean, I just wanted to give
you this," he said in a rush, and handed over the CD that was sitting
on the end table beside him.
Nick wiped
his fingers on his shorts and took the CD from Chris. "Okay," he said,
sounding surprised. "Thanks, man."
Chris busied
himself getting the DVD out of the case and taking it over to the player
while Nick read the tracklisting on the CD. When he turned back around,
Nick was staring at him from the sofa, his eyes bright, two spots of color
high on his cheeks.
"This mix...
it's really cool. I mean, I love these songs. It's like, the best ones
from the other one you made me, and..." He looked at the CD again. "It's
like your favorites and mine. Together."
Chris cleared
his throat. "It doesn't have to mean anything," he began, slowly, "if,
you know. If you don't want it to."
Nick shook
his head. "No." Chris felt his stomach twist, but then Nick continued.
"I mean, I do. I hope... it does. Mean something."
They stared
at each other a moment longer, and then Nick smiled, slowly, and patted
the sofa beside him. "Come here, Chris."
Chris didn't
remember crossing the room, but he was there, suddenly, and Nick's arms
were around him, squeezing him tight. "You really mean it?" Nick whispered,
and Chris nodded.
"I'm sorry
I acted so stupid," he mumbled against Nick's shoulder. "It wasn't nothing
to me."
"I knew that.
You think I don't know what the first mix meant?" Nick was laughing a
little as he spoke.
Chris pulled
back so he could see Nick's face. "What? Those nosy fuckers..."
"Careful
what you call Howie, man."
"How... damn,
I'm so gonna kill JC."
Nick smiled.
"Let me thank him first?"
Chris couldn't
help but laugh. "Okay, but then I'm killing him."
Nick let
him go and Chris grabbed his own plate, staying close to Nick on the sofa.
Suddenly he was starving. He took a big bite of his sandwich.
Nick winked
at Chris. "So, are we still gonna watch the movie? Or you want to save
it for later?" His grin turned wicked.
Chris felt
his face heating. "You know, I really should warn you. I'm terrible at
relationships," he said. "Worse at romance."
Nick leaned
back against the arm of the sofa and shook his head. "Dawg. I ain't looking
for romance." He stopped and thought for a second, like he was looking
for the right words. "I just want someone who'll come to the tattoo parlor
with me in the middle of the night." He grinned. "And dig it as much
as I do."
Chris looked
at him, and blinked. He could do that. "Well, then maybe I'm your man,"
he finally said.
He could
feel the smile on Nick's lips when they touched his.
[end]