“What do you want?” he whispered between soft kisses.
But of course I couldn’t answer. I never gave words to my desires. That gave them too much power. I moved my hands around to his back and pulled him closer. My cock was already heavy and hard.
“What do you want?” he repeated. He took one of my hands and placed it over his cock, which felt as hard as mine. God, I wanted him so, so much. I gave him a firm stroke and he groaned. “I’ll tell you what I want,” he said, kissing my chin. “I want to drag you over to that bed and find out if you’re a top or a bottom.”
That’s what woke me up.
“I can’t,” I gasped, jerking my body backward. “I can’t be either of those things.” My chest was heaving, and my whole body was hot. But I couldn’t keep pretending that this was okay. Finally, I did what was necessary. I spun around, opened the door and went outside. “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I have to go.”
Horrified at my erratic behavior, I couldn’t even make myself turn to wave goodnight. The cold air was bracing, and I welcomed the shock of it on my overheated body. Above me, the door closed, but I couldn’t think about that right now. I couldn’t let my mind go back to those moments with Axel. To my ridiculous behavior.
In front of me, a path opened into the park.
I took it.
Wandering around in the woods at night should have been a stupid idea, but there was a good moon tonight, and it lit up the snow between the trees. The path was a dark stripe heading toward campus. So I hurried toward my crappy little room in the graduate dorm.
It was what I had to do.
Chapter Eight
Axel
A week later, I woke up feeling lonely as fuck. It was Saturday so there was no job to go to. That should have been a blessing. But I had no friends, except for the one I’d kissed after he specifically told me that he couldn’t get involved.
That had been stupid of me. So stupid. I could have had one friend in Henning, Massachusetts, but now I had none.
I put on a few layers of clothing, my iPod and my running shoes, and pounded out two miles around the neighborhood. When I was done showering, it was still only nine thirty.
There wasn’t even a basketball game on to watch.
So I did the next best thing—I baked a batch of muffins. I’d used my favorite recipe, which was pear and ginger. I ate three of them, gobbling them down with a cup of coffee.
I was going to gain twenty-five pounds if I kept this up.
Leaving myself three more muffins for tomorrow, I put the other half-dozen into a plastic tub and carried them down the stairs to Caleb and Josh’s back door. When I knocked, the first thing I heard was a hair-raising shriek. Confused, I couldn’t decide whether to knock again or walk away. The door jerked open to reveal Josh standing there with two very small children—one on each hip. “Hey!” he said. Then he smiled. “Are those muffins?”
“I didn’t know you had babies.” I stepped inside.
“What babies?” he asked with a wink. “Oh, you mean these?” He hitched them both up a little higher as I shut the door.
“NOT a baby,” protested one of the little people in his arms.
“That’s right,” Josh agreed, kneeling down to set her on her feet. “You’re a big girl. So stop taking toys away from your baby brother.”
She ran out of the room without a backward glance, and then a third small person toddled into the room, grabbing Josh around the knee.
“Hello, miss,” Josh said. “Say hi to our new neighbor, Axel.”
The little girl squinted up at me. Then she buried her face in Josh’s leg.
He laughed. “This is Willy. She’s my cousin Miriam’s daughter, and the other two are my cousin Maggie’s kids. We spend a lot of time together. Miriam and Maggie are out shopping together right now.”
“Wow,” I said. “Do you do this every Saturday?”
“Pretty much. It gives their mothers a break.”
“Have a muffin,” I said, putting them down on the counter. “I realized I was going to chow the whole dozen unless I gave some away. They’re pear and ginger.”
Josh’s eyes widened. “You baked? In that little kitchen?”
“I’ve cooked in worse kitchens than that one.”
“Wow. Neither Caleb or I are true cooks. I mean…we get by. But it’s a lot of burgers on the grill and macaroni and cheese from a box.” Josh reached down with his free hand, broke off a piece of a muffin, and shoved it in his mouth. Then his eyes rolled back in his head. “Oh jeez. Yum.” He broke off another smaller piece and offered it to the baby under his arm. The baby moved his little face to the side, refusing it. “More for me,” Josh said, popping it into his mouth.
I eyed the whole crazy scene with a smile on my face. There were toys on the floor, and the sound of cartoons coming from the living room television. But Josh looked unruffled. He pointed at the coffee pot on the counter. “Want a cup? You’ll have to pour for yourself.” His hands were busy with the baby-holding and the muffin-eating.
“Sure. Thanks.” I really didn’t need more caffeine, but I wanted to linger a little longer, and Josh wasn’t hurrying me out the door. I took a mug from the cupboard he indicated and poured my cup. There was a carton of milk on the counter and I helped myself to a splash.
He plunked himself down in a kitchen chair. “It’s crazy here today. You’ll probably think twice about knocking again.”
“No way. My apartment has that new-guy silence.”
Josh nodded slowly. “You made one friend, though, right?”
My stomach tightened. “You mean…”
“Professor Williams.” His lips quirked into a little smile.
Shit. “It’s not like that,” I said with a sigh.
“No?” He looked surprised. “I just assumed that when a guy shows up at dinnertime with a bottle of wine under his arm…”
“It’s not like that,” I repeated. If Cax needed to play the straight man in this town, I wasn’t going to wreck it for him.
“Too bad,” Josh said. “I would have put money on him being gay. He is, right?”
Inwardly I cringed for poor Cax, who would not want to hear that one of his students had assumed he was gay. “Well.” I swallowed. “He’s better off if we don’t try to speculate. There are people in his life who might not be okay with it.”
“Oh.” Josh’s face fell. “I know exactly how that works. Say no more.”
“In fact, he was never here the other night. Etcetera.”
“I didn’t see a thing,” Josh said, eating the rest of the muffin one-handed while the baby drooled on his shoulder. “How do you know him, anyway?”
Now there’s a story. “Back in Ohio we used to be friends, but he moved away in high school.” I left a few crucial plot points out of that summary, of course.
“No way! So you do know someone in town.”
Yeah, and I kissed him, and now he’s not speaking to me.
“Hi guys!” a male voice called from the living room.
“In here!” Josh hollered.
Caleb appeared in the doorway. “Hey! What’s up?”
“Axel baked muffins. Get in here and try one of these.” Josh lifted the container for Caleb.
“No shit?” He reached for one.
“Language,” Josh scolded. “What is Chloe doing in the living room? It’s too quiet.”
“Watching Elmo. And taking apart the cable modem with a screwdriver.”
Josh rolled his eyes. “You crack yourself up.”
“Every day.” Caleb leaned over to kiss Josh on the head, and that small gesture made my heart ache. Would I ever have someone of my own?
Caleb sat down and told us about his shift at the garage. He and his coworker had made bets on whether a third coworker had proposed to his girlfriend the previous night. But when they called him to verify, they’d learned he’d walked in on her with another man yesterday after work.
“Oh, man,” Josh said. “T
hat is rough.” He picked up a baby’s bottle off the table, tucked the baby boy into the crook of his arm and offered the little guy the nipple.
The way Josh cared for these kids so effortlessly was mind-boggling. I wouldn’t know what to do with a baby if it sat up and gave me instructions. “You’re so good at that,” I said, feeling myself staring.
“Isn’t it weird?” Caleb said cheerfully. “More coffee?”
I stood and washed my mug. “I should get a move on,” I said. “Leave you guys to your Saturday.”
“Come for dinner some night next week,” Caleb offered. “It’s not usually this crazy around here.”
I smiled at him over my shoulder. “I don’t mind the crazy. But we will do dinner. That sounds like fun.” I put my mug on the drying rack.
“Thanks for the muffins!” Josh called.
“You can stop over with these anytime,” Caleb teased.
“Later, guys.” Smiling to myself, I went up to my quiet little treehouse residence. For want of something better to do, I logged in to check my work email. There was one message, from a personal email account called “Caxtrastrophe.”
* * *
Dear Axel,
I could only find a work email for you. But I needed to say thank you for dinner. It was terrific, and I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.
I also wanted to say I was sorry for flipping out and running off without explaining myself. That was pretty ridiculous. You probably think I’m nuts. When I said I didn’t get out much, I obviously wasn’t kidding.
Hope you have a great weekend,
C.
* * *
I switched to my private email and wrote out a reply.
* * *
Dear Caxtastrophe,
Don’t apologize. You told me the rules. I heard you loud and clear, but then I went looking for loopholes.
Sorry to put you in such a tough position. I won’t do it again. Unless you want me to. *Slaps self.* Okay, that wasn’t helpful. I’ll try to be good.
Axeldental
* * *
I hit “send” and hoped that our friendship could be resuscitated. Yet my conscience nagged at me. I’d never stop wanting him. And I’d never stop trying to figure out how to have him.
There had to be a way.
Chapter Nine
Cax
Winter arrived, bringing another foot of snow to Massachusetts. I wrote two papers for the classes I was taking and graded papers for the class where I was a T.A. Joshua Royce wrote a good paper about the history of dairy farming in New England. I gave him an A-.
He never mentioned my visit to his tenant’s apartment, and I sure never brought it up.
Sitting in a library carrel after office hours, I made some notes about a manuscript I was reading, while making periodic checks of my private email account.
These days, I checked the damn thing every five minutes like a love-sick teenager. I knew I was being pathetic. It’s just that I couldn’t help myself.
For the past few weeks, Caxtastrophe and Axeldental had exchanged dozens of short messages. Except for those first two, where we apologized to each other, there wasn’t a lot of weighty content. Instead, everything we said to each other was light and funny. Friendly.
And flirty. But not in a dirty way. Axel didn’t send pictures of his dick or anything. Instead, he’d send pictures of his dinner or something—like a homemade chicken cutlet covered in marinara sauce and mozzarella. Hungry? There’s plenty, he’d written.
Of course I’d begged off, my excuse being the Bulls game that had been on TV. I’d sent him a picture of my feet propped up on the coffee table with the TV in the background.
I’d wondered if he’d ask me when I’d become a Bulls fan. When we lived in Ohio, the Bulls were his team, while I hadn’t been much into basketball at all. I only played at church retreats because Axel liked it so much. It wasn’t until after we moved away that I began to follow basketball in earnest.
Because it made me think of him.
But when he’d replied, Axel hadn’t mention the Bulls. Oooh! How did you know I had a foot fetish? Just kidding. Nobody really has those, right? I mean, nobody who’s ever sniffed my basketball shoes.
We traded emails all the time now. Just like that, his chatter became part of my life again, and it made me ridiculously happy. Ours was an odd, electronic friendship. We were twenty-two-year-old pen pals who lived only two miles apart. Pretty pathetic, but I didn’t dwell on it. Because being his pen-pal was my only option.
Can I ask a question? Axel wrote one evening. What does your dad do for work here in town? And how does he manage to keep his foot on your back now that you don’t live at home? Sorry if that’s too personal a question. You don’t have to tell me.
I’d preferred our light and flirty emails. But I answered it nonetheless.
* * *
He works for the college. He runs their ROTC program and teaches a course on military history.
And as for the other question, I’m aware that he can’t really keep tabs on me. But when I moved back here I told him I wanted to help out with the boys. And he just laid it out—a threat. If my “faggot ass” was with a man, I’d never see my brothers again.
Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to write that? Because I know it’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t be able to order me to be a straight man. He shouldn’t care, and he shouldn’t have any idea that threats can shape me into someone else. There’s nothing about his behavior that makes any sense. But I have to follow his weird rules or he’ll cut off access to Scotty, who needs me the most. Jared and Mark I could probably still talk to on the sly.
He interrogates them, too. Like, who were you with at the basketball game, etc. I live the life he demands because I can’t afford to find out what will happen if I slip up.
* * *
I hit “send” before my ego could think too hard about what I’d written. Not only did I hate my father, I often hated myself for going along with his bullshit. It’s just that I couldn’t figure out how to stop.
Axeldental to Caxtastrophe: I’m sorry. I’m sorry that’s how it is, and I’m sorry I made you talk about it. And I’m really sorry that there isn’t some way we can spend time together. But at least I understand now why we can’t.
Caxtastrophe to Axeldental: Ugh. Thank you. Moving on. There is one place we’re going to see each other, though. At least I hope so. Intramural basketball starts next week. And the first game on the schedule is between the school of graduate studies and the athletic department.
Axeldental to Caxtastrophe: I was going to ask you about that. Is it okay if I play? Boz got me in the gym to practice last week. Seems like a fun little league.
Caxtastrophe to Axeldental: Of course it’s okay if you play. What more manly venue is there than the gym? I’m counting on you being there. (Insert smack talk about how I’ll wipe up the court with you, etc.)
Axeldental to Caxtastrophe: (Insert smack talk about how you’re going to lose big, etc.)
Caxtastrophe to Axeldental: Bring it, smack talker.
Axeldental to Caxtastrophe: You can bet on it.
* * *
Nothing could have kept me away from that game. Playing against Axel would probably be the highlight of my fall semester. That was pretty sad, but as with everything else in my life, there was no point in dwelling on it.
I couldn’t even concentrate in the library that afternoon. I kept looking out the window, watching the sun slowly advance toward the horizon. When it was finally dark outside, I quit pretending I was studying. I packed up my stuff and headed over to the gym.
Naturally, even before the teams showed up in the gym, the outcome was predetermined. PhD candidates versus hardcore jocks? Please.
But I was eager for this drubbing. I’d lose a million to zip if it meant playing basketball with Axel one more time.
When I reached the gym, though, my eager eyes did not find Axel. Trying not to feel disappointed, I dro
pped my gym bag on the bleachers and peeled off my fleece jacket. Then I checked my phone one more time.
No messages.
“Can we all go out beers after this?” asked my teammate, Jason. He dropped his jacket onto the bench beside mine.
“Sure. Let's do it.”
Jason was a few years older than I, and just the sort of laidback human who made playing on this team fun. Technically he should have been ineligible for the graduate school team. At our one and only team practice last week he told me he’d graduated from the architecture program last semester. But nobody gave a damn if he wasn’t a card-carrying grad student anymore. This was the most casual league ever.
Going out for beers afterward sounded like fun. I didn’t have a lot of cash to throw around, but this team and the occasional night out would make my cloistered life in Henning more bearable.
“We might need more than one beer to staunch the bleeding,” Jason remarked, stripping off his sweatshirt. “Looks like the athletic department picked up a new player. Don’t recognize that guy from last year.”
“Yeah?” My blood pressure spiked, and I gave all my attention to changing into my gym shoes.
“Oh yeah. I’m sensing our scoring chances just went down a few notches. But, hey,” Jason muttered. “At least he’s hot.”
My pulse kicked up another notch, because now I was positive that it was Axel who’d walked in. That “hot” comment clearly described Axel.
And wasn’t it funny that I’d never realized Jason was gay? My gaydar was terrible. Because it never got any practice.
I heard the familiar sound of the basketball bouncing confidently off the floor, and knowing it was Axel warming up made me feel warm everywhere. I used to love playing one-on-one together, because it allowed me to really focus on him without anyone’s scrutiny. I could watch his beautiful body move, and I could get as near to him as I wanted while we fought for the ball. And nobody ever thought it was strange.