Holy shit, that was a lot of words really quickly.
I think I got most of it though, and he absolutely shouldn’t tell anyone because there’s no way we can stay married. “No,” I insist. “Just… shut up for a fucking second, Chad. I remember Elvis, but don’t tell anyone.”
“Why not?” he asks innocently.
Why not? Is he for real?Why not?For so many reasons. How about the fact that Chad told me he’s straight less than forty-eight hours ago when we were heading to Vegas? He seems to have forgotten now, but I was practically chanting the reminder to myself all day yesterday as he was parading around the spa and the pool half naked. And even if he’s realized he isn’t only attracted to women, surely he’ll learn there are better men for him to focus his queer awakening on.
We’re complete opposites. Chad is constantly smiling; he’s so positive, energetic, and full of life. I, on the other hand, feel like the shell of a person most of the time, as if I’m going through the motions of day-to-day life because it’s what’s expected, even if my purpose is long forgotten.
There’s no way Chad would actually want to spend any extended amount of time being dragged down by my presence. He barely knows me. This weekend was the first time we’ve had any one-on-one time together, and the person I was this weekend isn’t a good reflection of who I am at home.
Chad’s smile did falter for a moment last night when he was talking about his best friend, Blake, marrying my best friend, Liam. He was obviously jealous. I’m not sure if it was of their relationship or of Liam specifically because now Blake prioritizes all his time with Liam. I couldn’t help but think that maybe Chad was even in love with Blake with how he acts around him. He always seems to rely on Blake to make decisions for them or lead the way. But Chad did refer to me as his Liam, which makesme wonder if he thinks I’m the answer to whatever is bothering him this weekend.
Blake had only dated women before he met Liam onLove Without Labels, a queer blind-dating reality TV show, but their situation isn’t ours. I don’t know if Chad is actually queer or just doesn’t want to be alone. It’s horribly confusing.
Either way, it’s not really me he’s interested in; it’s got to be the idea of a partner, or a relationship, or whatever it is he’s jealous of. He probably thinks I’m exciting because I have tattoos and piercings. Because I’m different from his rich friends in the city. But I know I could never live up to whatever expectation he’s built up in his head. There’s no use in pretending that I would ever be good for someone like him. I wouldn’t be.
How do I explain that to Chad, though, when he looks so fucking hopeful? “Because just…” I trail off, completely unsure how to convince him this was a bad idea and no one else needs to know. Clearly, the alcohol inhibited my ability to make sound decisions last night. “Don’t,” is all I can come up with.
Luckily, he doesn’t protest, finally nodding. But then he snuggles back into me and quietly says, “Good morning, husband.”
I groan again, hating the way my stomach flips at the label. I can’t be happy about this. It isn’t real. I drop my face into his shoulder and mumble against his skin, “I am never drinking again.” I shouldn’t even be leaning on him like this. I’ve never been a fan of casual touches, so I don’t know why pulling back and getting out of bed feels like a hardship, but I do it anyway.
“What? No! Where are you going, John?” he asks, sounding panicked.
Just another confirmation that he doesn’t actually know me. I don’t want to sit here cuddling. Even if I let Chad get away with touching me all weekend. He casually grabbed my hand to hold it when he was drunk, and he leaned on my shoulder on the cab ride home last night, and I didn’t stop him. Hell, he even bookedus a couple’s massage for some reason. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to cause a scene, and I was out of my normal element, so I thought maybe I could try to have a little fun. I needed to be there for Liam, after all. I am his best man.
But who I was this weekend isn’t who I really am. If Chad did know me, if he knew how boring and monotonous my life is, there’s no way he would be so distraught about putting distance between us. He’d thank me.
Really, I’m doing us both a favor by shutting this down now. I know I could only disappoint him. There’s no use in drawing this out, getting his hopes up for a happy future that could never exist between us. Chad deserves that future. It’s obvious he wants to live out his happily ever after with someone. I want him to find that person too. He deserves a partner who can build something real with him. Not one who’s stuck in the past, hung up on the idea of a life with someone who died nine years ago.
Last night, when I was drunk at the altar, Chad was encouraging me to have fun, teasing me the way Luke used to. I was distracted by how attractive he is with his defined muscles, perfectly styled light brown hair, and big blue eyes shining at me as though I was someone important, as if I were someone worthy of being at his side. I was weak and selfish, so I gave in to the fantasy he was spinning of us making each other happier. I was able to convince myself for a couple of hours that maybe things could be different for me, that I could have more. That my life could have things like joy and fun in it again.
But that isn’t me, and it isn’t fair for me to pretend to be someone I’m not when Chad is talking about forever.
I need to shut this down.
“I need coffee…” I start, quickly trailing off. Fuck, why is this so hard? I take a deep breath and force myself to say what needs to happen. “And a lawyer. This can be annulled. Probably easily around here. I’ll find someone at the front desk. There’s always paperwork for this shit. We’re probably not even the first people staying here to make this mistake this weekend.” I try to sound casual and confident, even if I don’t feel that way at all as I look at the devastation clearly written all over Chad’s perfect features.
“But I don’t want to pretend our wedding didn’t happen,” he attempts to reassure me.
No matter how desperate he looks, I know I need to stay strong. He might be upset now, but I know I’m doing the right thing. One day, when he’s married for real to someone he loves, he’ll thank me for this. Or, more likely, he’ll forget all about our drunk wedding. He’ll be fine without me.
And I’ll be fine without him.
I’m better off alone anyway.
“Chad, we’ve been over this, you’re stra?—”
“No! No, just, no, John. I’m not straight; everything clicked last night. I told you that. Our time together has opened my eyes to the possibilities I hadn’t considered before. How can I prove it to you? Oh! Let me suck your dick, please,” he begs.
Fuck, that’s a tempting offer. My dick twitches at the thought, just like last night when he was kneeling in front of me in that club bathroom. I’d agreed to show him my dick piercings, convinced it would be a clinical experience that would remind both of us that he’s straight so we could move beyond his flirting. I’d never expected him to offer to help when I started getting hard, or that he’d also end up with an erection while looking at mine. The whole situation made no sense, and I stormed out before I could give in to temptation.
Like I need to do right now.
If I let myself touch him, it’ll be so much harder to say goodbye later today when we’re back in New York. So much harder to stop my imagination from running wild with scenarios and excuses of when it could happen again.
Chad is an indulgence I can’t afford.
