“Yep. Kind of surreal how everything's gone down, isn't it?”
“Yes, it is. I did have a lot of fun, Mikey. I hope you know that, and I hope you know just how incredible I think you are. I know it bothered you when I said I didn’t want to do this long distance, but I didn't meant to hurt you.”
“I get that.”
“I guess this is the last time we're going to see each other before you head back.”
I can’t help myself. “It doesn't have to be. Do you want it to be the last time?”
Scott shakes his head, and it gives me some hope—maybe more than it should. Maybe I should just walk away now so that I don't get hurt, but after the moments we’ve shared, I can’t shake them. I don’t want to shake them.
I cherish what he gave me and the way I've opened up to him, the way he's opened me up, and the transformation that I felt like I've gone through by being with him.
“We could get together before I leave, if you wanted to,” I say. “Jordan’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon to see that Brian guy in Asheville. Why don't I come over and make you some dinner, and we see where things take us from there?”
“I think I have an idea where things will take us. Or at least I’m hoping.”
“Don't get cocky.”
“Well, I would really like to do it.”
There's this lightness about Scott, but I can feel his guilt, too.
He opens the passenger door and gets out, and as he closes it behind him, there’s this ache in my gut—the pain of knowing I'm going to go another night without him.
How could we share so much—get so close—and now feel so distant? Does he not understand how I feel, how much I care, how much I want him?
* * *
I knock on Jordan and Scott's door. Scott answers, smiling.
In a hunter-green polo that fits snug, the hem tucked behind the clip of his belt, he looks hot as ever.
I pull out the flowers I have behind my back. Red roses. It's corny as fuck, but this is the kind of treatment Scott deserves. I don’t mind being corny for him. Tonight’s my night to dote on him and savor what I can. I won’t let anything, not even my ego, stand in my way.
“Roses? Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like I'm kidding?”
“I didn't take you for a roses kind of guy, Mikey.”
“Maybe you haven't noticed some of the best parts of me yet.”
He glances at my crotch. “I think I've noticed the best part.”
“Fair enough.”
In my other hand, I have a brown paper bag filled with groceries, which he eyes. “So what is this mystery dinner you're making us?”
“It's a surprise,” I tell him. “I mean, for another five seconds until I get this stuff out and you help me make it.”
He laughs. “That's the Mikey I'm familiar with, and I wouldn't have it any other way.” As I start unloading the bag onto the counter, he glances at the ingredients. “Meat, tomato paste, spaghetti noodles,” he notes. “You’re making spaghetti? Like, one of the easiest dishes in the world?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs, and I make amazing meatballs.”
“Is everything you say going to sound sexual?”
“It just works out that way, it seems.”
