“You know what,” I said. “Let’s go have a glass of wine. But this time, we’re going to my home.”
“As in... now?” he said, confused. “Doesn’t this place stay open for another couple of hours?”
“If anything, Tom will thank me for saving him a couple of hours of pay,” I said. “And if he gets upset, I’ll just say an emergency came up that forced me to close early. I don’t think he’ll probe too much harder on that.”
“If it’s good for you, it’s fucking good for me.”
With that, Phoenix finished his second Blue Moon, stood up, and offered me his hand. I felt more than a little thrill as I took him up on his offer, walking out the bar, locking it behind me, and then...
“You’re driving?” he said.
“And you’re riding.”
He looked so hard like he wanted to crack a joke.
“Oh, stop, boys gotta ride sometimes too,” I said, giving it right to him. “I like to take control, remember?”
The truth was, I just didn’t want to get carried away on a motorcycle. Yes, I knew what we were building toward, and yes, I wanted it. But if last time was all about falling into the throes of passion, of having an erotic encounter built up from the tension of “do we, do we not,” I wanted this time to be a gradual transition, about showing that we didn’t have to rush things because we knew that we liked each other.
“Oh, how could I ever forget,” he said. “I just hate to leave my bike here.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be back to it before the end of the night. You can park it behind the store if you’re concerned about it.”
* * *
The car ride to my place was very much like the conversation in the bar—light, silly, and playful without being overly sexual. It was something I realized I’d never really had before—a man in my life that I could both be intimate with and share goofy, lighthearted conversation with. In that regard...
Maybe my feelings for him went a little bit beyond just simply liking him.
Ridiculous?
Maybe. If I’d heard someone else tell the story, I probably would have thought so. But feeling what I felt, I knew there was only one word that was precise for how I felt, even if I didn’t want to say that word in my head, let alone out loud.
“I recognize this place,” Phoenix said when we pulled up.
“It’s a bit of a dump, I know.”
“I think one of the Black Reapers’ girlfriends lives here.”
Was it a sign of any kind that he didn’t say the club name with venom? That wasn’t my place to know.
We headed up to my apartment. At one point, I saw Phoenix do a double-take. I followed his eyes, and sure enough, Axle of the Black Reapers was headed out.
“You can go talk if you want,” I offered.
“It’s fine,” he said. “I spoke to them plenty last night. And we’ll be speaking again soon.”
Huh. Maybe he really is trying to make amends with others. Guess this all is pretty genuine.
I opened the door to my place and immediately felt some chagrin as it dawned on me Phoenix was going to think this place was run down in comparison to his home.
“Nice.”
OK, that was not what I was expecting.
“Can’t believe you’re actually going to leave this place at some point.”
I had a slight feeling there was some sarcasm embedded in there in terms of how nice the place was. But it gave me a segue.
