Slide, page 17
I chugged some more of my beer. “Right.”
The conversation moved on to lighter subjects as we drank the night away, for all we’d sworn we were heading home early. We’d delivered a baby earlier on in the evening, and we were hedging bets as to which of us they were going to name him after. I definitely had the edge. The kid had shot out right into my damn arms: a “free-throw” delivery of the best kind. If I got the nod, I’d be two ahead in our unofficial tally. Needless to say, we disagreed right up until we parted in the street sometime later. Mick was still bitching as he waved and headed for his place on the North Side.
I was pretty buzzed by the time I made it home to Lincoln Park. One beer had turned into five… or six… and God knew how many shots. Mick and I didn’t get our drink on together that often, and it’d felt good to blow off some steam. I stumbled up the stairs of my building feeling pretty chill. Despite the alcohol-induced haze, my mind felt lighter, less confused, than it had in a while.
Our door screeched its way open. I winced and eased it shut. Though Ash was probably asleep, a racket like that would disturb even him. But it turned out I needn’t have worried. As I ignored my better judgment and grabbed a beer from the fridge, I heard voices in the living room. Despite being trashed enough to pass out where I stood, I decided to go and investigate.
Ash appeared in the hall as I neared the doorway. Our eyes met and he raised an eyebrow. “Are you drunk?”
I leaned lazily against the wall and shrugged. “A bit.”
There was a pause, a beat of silence that went on far too long, before he blinked and his intense stare softened. “Me too,” he said. “Did you get off early?”
“Uh-huh.” I inclined my head toward the living room. “Who’s here?”
“Joe.”
“Joe?” I tried to picture the tall, black-haired guy from the party at Ellie’s place. I remembered talking to him, but at the time I’d been kinda distracted. It took me a moment to place him as the dude who’d hugged Ash at the tattoo shop.
Ash folded his arms across his chest, and just like that, his guard was right back up. “Yeah, Joe. We can leave if it’s a problem for you.”
The surprise made me dizzy. As a rule, he was only aggressive when he felt threatened. I raised my hands in a passive gesture. “It’s fine,” I said mildly. “Does he want to crash on the couch?”
It worked. He dropped his defensive arms, and his face relaxed into a tentative smile. “Is that cool?”
“Sure.”
He nodded slowly, tilting his head to the side and considering me almost absently. He opened his mouth and shut it a few times before he seemed to figure out what he wanted to say. “Are you still pissed at me?”
My drunken brain lurched clumsily as I tried to comprehend why he would think that it was me who had the right to be pissed. I gave up pretty quickly though, because as far as I knew, I was still the asshole. “Why would you think I was pissed at you?”
He shrugged, and his gaze slid to the floor the way it often did when he was uncertain. “You sure seemed that way.”
I reached out and made a clumsy grab for his hip. He resisted for a moment, until he relented and took a few steps forward. I felt the soft whoosh of air as he exhaled and dropped his head onto my shoulder. I wound my arms around his waist. It was so fucking good to feel him again. A week was a long time to go without something as addictive as touching Ash. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
He let me hold him for a moment longer before he raised his head to look at me. “So you’re not mad?”
I moved my hand under his T-shirt and rubbed the warm skin over his ribcage. “No. I never was… not with you, anyway. I was just being a dick. I’m sorry, okay?”
“Who were you mad at?”
Even if he’d heard about it, he would never link the murder in the park with my sullen mood. It wasn’t in the district I worked in, and it would never occur to him that I could’ve attended the scene. “Bad day at work,” I said vaguely. “Am I forgiven?”
He considered my answer for a moment, but I knew he wouldn’t press me for details. True to form, a moment later my apology was accepted and the whole thing forgotten. He pressed a light kiss to the side of my neck, straightened up, and stepped away. “You can show me how sorry you are later. Want a beer?”
I waved my bottle in reply and pushed myself off the wall to head for the living room. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll see you in there.”
Joe glanced up when he heard me approach. He looked a little surprised, but an easy grin appeared on his face anyway. “Hey, man. Ash said you were working till morning.”
I bumped my fist to his and flopped down on the couch. “Quiet night.”
“You get those?”
“Not often,” I said. “Did you go out tonight?”
“Just the Walkabout on Main Street.” He fiddled with the Xbox controller he was holding. “We watched Charlie play for a bit, then shot some pool next door. Chas was wasted, so we left him with some chick and came back here.”
I rolled my eyes at that. I’d helped Ash carry Charlie home more times than I cared to remember. For a rich kid, the dude was an animal when it came to his booze. Ash reappeared. In his arms he carried more beer, a pizza box, and a tube of cookie dough. He offered the latter to me, but I shook my head. Fucker didn’t really want to share. Joe waved his controller at me, but I declined that too. I was way too drunk to play that shit.
I slid down the couch after watching them for a few minutes, tuning out the tattoo-based conversation. I should’ve gone to bed, but I was too exhausted to move. I was half-asleep when I felt Ash lean back on the sofa and nudge his shoulder against mine. Wary, I glanced at Joe and then back. Even at home, it was unlike Ash to be affectionate in front of anyone except Ellie. I went with it, though. Joe’s presence didn’t bother me. It was my fucking couch, and no one was forcing him to stay.
Ash fell quiet after a while. I closed my eyes, assuming he was still engrossed in whatever game he and Joe were playing. I didn’t open them again until I heard my name.
I sat up, rubbing my face to disperse the beer-induced coma. Had I been asleep? I wasn’t quite sure.
Joe put his controller down and stretched his arms above his head. “You know, it’s a lot easier spending an evening with gay guys than playing third wheel to some whining chick.”
I snorted and made a grab for Ash’s beer. “Who’s gay?”
Joe frowned. “Huh? You’re not gay?”
His confusion was almost comical. I could’ve played with him for hours, but I didn’t. I’d used up my bastard quota for the week, and besides, it was unfair to expect someone else to grasp something that had never been defined in the first place. How could I expect Joe to understand what I’d never figured out myself?
Ash got to his feet. He didn’t like these conversations. Being labeled as something came with presumptions… expectations he thought he failed to live up to. True to form, he walked away, leaving me to explain the unbiased nature of my sexuality.
I pushed myself further off the couch and watched him retreat to the kitchen. It was strange the way he could remove himself from a situation without anyone really noticing. Joe seemed lost in thought, but I knew he hadn’t registered Ash’s departure. Ash was like that when he was uncomfortable—like a ghost, the master of escape. Sometimes I didn’t even see him leave. But I took pity on Joe. I wasn’t a fan of being called bisexual, but he deserved to have it explained in terms he understood.
“Ah, I get it, I think,” he said once I’d given him the very short version. “You dig chicks and guys? Ash too?”
“Yep,” I said shortly, though neither of us had been with a woman in years. “Chicks and dicks. Just don’t call me greedy—I’m too drunk to punch straight.”
Joe smirked. “Dude, point taken. I know you’ve got a mean right hook. Besides, you’re in a relationship. Unless you’re a cheater, that’s hardly fucking greedy.”
I grinned. “Trust me, I’ve got everything I need right here. But I’m sorry if I confused you. I know it can seem strange when you’ve never come across it before.”
Joe sighed and shook his head slightly. “I don’t mean to be an ignorant fuck, I’ve just never known two guys who were together before, and it’s kinda my baseline to say the wrong thing. What’s it like? Does that shit at Ellie’s place happen a lot?”
So much had happened in recent weeks, I’d almost forgotten his involvement in that. I glanced over my shoulder. Ash was nowhere to be seen, but I still lowered my voice. “It doesn’t happen much,” I said honestly. “People don’t usually notice we’re together.”
“That can’t be any fun,” Joe mused thoughtfully.
“Doesn’t bother me.”
And it didn’t. Ellie once asked me if I resented not being able to walk down the street holding Ash’s hand, and my answer was the same then. Regardless of the state of society, I wasn’t that guy. I didn’t need a PDA to validate what I had with Ash. It was ours, and I didn’t feel the need to share. Fuck it. I didn’t even want to share.
Joe frowned, still baffled. “Really?”
I swallowed the last of my beer. “Yeah.”
“So you don’t give a shit what anyone thinks, and you’re just discreet by nature?”
I yawned long and wide. “That’s about the size of it.”
Joe nodded slowly. I could see him processing my half-baked explanation and turning it over in his head. It made me wonder where his curiosity stemmed from. Of all the possible things he could’ve asked, that wasn’t what I would’ve expected. But before I could ponder it any further, Ash reappeared with a bottle of Jack and some shot glasses.
“What’s got you two so serious?”
Joe flashed me an evil grin. “Nothing. Pete was just explaining the logistics of your sex life to me.”
That was more like it. I was better prepared for shit like that, and deflection was Ash’s specialty. He laughed and threw a dry pizza crust across the room. “You’re not blushing enough for that, asshole.”
Joe raised his hands and defended himself against the incoming missile. “Hey, I’m no prude. I’m just uninformed.”
And as quickly as that, the focus moved from us to Joe’s own love life. He was pursuing a girl back in Washington State he was clearly in love with. It wasn’t hard to persuade him to talk about her, though I wasn’t quite sure why he’d abandoned her in Seattle to live in a shitty place in Lakeview. If she was as hot as he said she was, he should’ve stayed the fuck there.
I ditched them shortly into the conversation and went to bed. Watching Joe try to explain his complicated situation to Ash was almost as entertaining as watching Ash try to wrap his head around it, but if I wanted to feel even halfway human tomorrow, I needed to get my ass to sleep.
SOME hours later, I woke up. The apartment was dark and eerily quiet. I rolled out of bed and into the bathroom. When I was done, I set about removing the jeans I’d passed out in and replacing them with some sweats I found on the floor. No easy task, considering I was still drunk off my ass.
I stumbled out of the bathroom and tripped over Ash’s feet. He was sitting on the windowsill, blowing cigarette smoke out the open window. In my disoriented haze, I’d shuffled right by him the first time. I squinted in the darkness at him. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t appear to hear me. I followed his gaze, thinking perhaps he was watching the snow fall, but he wasn’t. He was just fucking staring, his eyes blankly vacant, like he wasn’t really seeing anything at all. “Ash?”
The urge to shake him was strong: so strong my hands actually twitched. I stepped forward with my arm extended. At the very last second, he blinked and focused his glazed eyes on me.
“Come to bed.”
He stared warily at my outstretched hand and slowly shook his head. Confused, I dropped my arm and rubbed my hand over my face. I held his wide-eyed gaze for a moment longer before I gave up and walked away. The bed dipped a little while later, but Ash made no move to touch me. I pulled my head out from under my pillow to look at him. He was lying on his back with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. I reached out for him, noting the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “Are you okay?”
He seemed startled when he noticed my hand on his heated skin. He removed it and laced his fingers with mine. “Just drunk,” he said drowsily. “Sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t. I had to piss.” I squeezed his hand, running my thumb over the old scar on his palm. “Come here.”
He rolled onto his side toward me and tentatively scooted forward. I put an arm around him and pulled him a little closer so he could curve around me and put his head on my chest. He mumbled something I couldn’t make out, and I put a finger to his lips to quiet him. “It’s okay. Sleep now, babe.”
I watched him settle, trying to decipher the strange blind haze I’d seen in his eyes, but I couldn’t stay awake for long. I was way too tired and way too drunk, and the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that I’d imagined it. Because, really, what else could it be?
CHAPTER TWENTY
IN THE weeks that followed, the evil suck-me-under vortex of work reared its ugly head. We hardly saw each other, much less had time to have any fun. But Ash seemed in good form when we did cross paths, quietly inspired by his schoolwork, without any sign of lingering distress. The theory module of his class had come to an end, and he’d begun the practical phase. Though I didn’t understand half the shit he got up to in school, he didn’t have to tell me how much he enjoyed transforming his ink designs into actual paintings. I caught him frowning at them from time to time, but it was obvious he was completely absorbed. It was nice to see, and it helped all the weirdness from the past few months fade until I could barely remember it.
And there was something about a man who smelled of paint. The smell of his work on his skin was hot—really hot—and it thoroughly distracted me from anything else I’d been worried about. When we connected, talking was the last thing on my mind.
A few weeks after our drunken night in with Joe, I came home from an early shift to find Ash cooking dinner. It wasn’t something either of us bothered to do very often. For my part, I was generally doing him a favor; I couldn’t cook bacon without losing my temper and setting the place on fire, but Maggie had taught him how to make a few things, and he seemed to enjoy cooking whenever it occurred to him to do it.
He was pretty good at it too. The dish I could smell as I walked through the door was one of his best—homemade mac and cheese, Italian style. It was one of my favorite things to eat, and after a week of existing on bad coffee and takeout, it was just what I needed. Funny, really, because I’d been thinking about him on the way home, and I’d picked up his favorite dessert.
Ash took the box of cherry pie out of my hands, then pounced, pushing me into the refrigerator and kissing the hell out of me. “You know it’s only the smell of the pie stopping me fucking you on the floor right now, don’t you?”
I rolled my eyes, catching my breath. “Yeah, I know you think with your belly instead of your dick. Guess I win either way, though, right?”
With one last fuck-hot kiss, he shoved me out of the kitchen. “Prick. Go wash your ass up—dinner’s nearly done.”
I had the quickest shower known to man, and ten minutes later we were sprawled on the couch with a big bowl of pasta each. Ash got up briefly to fetch his dessert. He flopped down beside me with a slice big enough for three and an extra spoon, but I waved it away. Cherry pie was gross. I bought it because it was his favorite; I didn’t want to eat the damn thing. Besides, I knew he didn’t really want to share it. I lay back on the couch when I was done eating and watched ESPN through lazy eyes. Ash dozed beside me until I shook him awake sometime later. For the first time in a while, we went to bed together, and though neither of us had the energy to fuck, just being together was enough for me.
The following morning, I woke first. I lay still for a minute and absorbed the warmth from the body beside me. Slow breathing told me Ash was still asleep. I wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t a morning person, and it was only six. I didn’t choose to be one, but with my sleep pattern dictated by unpredictable shift work, once I was awake I tended to stay that way.
I clicked on the tiny TV at the end of our bed and lay back, watching with the sound on low. Call me a kid, but I had thing for vintage cartoons. I was watching Ren & Stimpy when he finally stirred a few hours later. It took a few minutes for him to wake up properly. The first time he mumbled and moved his head to his favorite place on my belly. The second time, he just looked confused to see me. He rolled away and pulled a pillow over his head. I watched him, amused, but it bothered me that he was so used to waking up alone he thought he was dreaming. Had it really been that long?
Eventually, he figured out which way was up, chuckling sleepily. “Day off?”
I smiled at his sleep-thick voice and crazy hair. “Yeah, I’m not on till tomorrow morning.”
He sat up, propped his head on his elbow, and let out a long-suffering sigh. “Bet it’s a double, though, right?”
“Not officially. You want coffee?”
He didn’t usually, but he nodded. I swung my legs out of bed and padded through the apartment to the kitchen. He was still rubbing his face and looking sleepy when I came back. I put his sugar-laden mug on the nightstand and regarded him. “Bad night?”
“Hmm? Nah, it’s not that. I slept fine.”
I took a gulp of my coffee as he stretched his arms above his head. The urge to lunge at him was strong, but for once I didn’t want to spend the whole day just fucking. “What are you doing today? Do you want go out? We could have lunch with Ellie.”
His tired eyes lit up, reward enough for my restraint. “Ellie’s away with her folks, remember? But I’m not working till later. Can we go to the batting cages?”
“Sounds good,” I agreed easily. I did vaguely recall Ellie’s spontaneous trip overseas, but she went away so often, these things didn’t always register. “You better get your game face on, though. I whooped your ass last time.”
