He can almost feel Will tensing on the other side of the line. “As I said, I’m sorry.”
“What? No, don’t be sorry. Please don’t take the blame here. Storms always pass, right?”
“Not all storms, Owen. But for what it’s worth, I fancy you now as much as I did yesterday and the day before.”
Owen smiles. “You fancy me, Will Thomas?”
Will chuckles quietly. “I do. I missed you this evening, but it’s good that you spoke with your aunt.”
“How was it at Rodie’s?”
“Fine.”
“Will.”
“More tense than usual. A few more people sending nasty looks, a few more accidental shoves. All manageable.”
None of this should be manageable—or acceptable.
Owen rubs his face, feeling tired. “I’ll stay with you tomorrow night. We can make something to eat.” He doesn’t suggest for them to go out together and show everyone how little they care about others’ opinions, since despite everything, heisscared. He’s a stranger here, and he doesn’t want to test the length people might go to to send him a message.
“I’d be happy to have you here tomorrow,” Will says. “And thank you for calling.”
“You know I can’t stay away from my muse too long. Are you naked?”
“Afraid I’m fully dressed.”
“You’re not. You’re lying naked on the grass by the river with the sun beginning to set.” Owen closes his eyes. “I see it clearly. It’s beautiful.”
“I envy your imagination. Have a good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, Will.”
*
The following morning, he stays in bed longer than he needs to. He had planned to hang out in town and maybe buy a few new shirts, but he isn’t sure if it’s a good idea.
Did Will also feel like this? As if he were in a prison without walls?
Owen grunts and pushes himself out of bed. He should be braver than this. If he could survive the hell back home and the fight with Lee, he can damn well survive whatever this town can throw at him. He takes a shower and gets dressed, then walks out into a misty morning, though the air is warm. His stomach grumbles, so he decides to start with his favorite bakery.
The first signs of change come when he reaches the town’s main square. By now, he recognizes a decent number of the residents, enough to wave and get waved back, but there’s no one waving at him today. Some hurry to look away, some shake their heads, and one man even spits on the ground. What surprises Owen the most is the look of pity on their faces, as if he’s caught a disease.
He wants to be the kind of guy who doesn’t give a damn, but it’s a horrible feeling. He itches to return home and lock himself inside until his shift at the library, but he senses that giving up now will only lead to more sacrifices until he’s just a man who rarely leaves his aunt’s house.
He reaches the bakery and goes to the counter to order a sandwich and a coffee. The teen behind the register is named Andy, and he’s the owners’ son. He’s usually friendly, even though he clearly hates his job.
“Man, I’ve been hearing your name a lot since yesterday.”
Owen clears his throat. “Good things, I reckon.”
Andy snorts. “Yeah, right.” He leans closer and lowers his voice. “I’ve got no problem with gay people, or with Will, but I remember people talking about that shit with the sheriff’s son for so long, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Now they’re talking about itagain.Thanks for that.”
“I…” He stops himself from apologizing. “Maybe people should mind their own fucking business.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
Owen orders his food and coffee. As he waits, he pretends to be interested in the pastries on display so he won’t need to make eye contact with anyone, but he still feels the weight of their gaze.
