Once I’ve refocused, and I’ve settled something inside me with spreadsheets and lists, I turn on music throughout the house—classic rock over country for today—and then go upstairs to change into my swim trunks and a hoodie. I make sure the bedroom is neat, though it usually is, and I’m not sure Darren will come up here tonight anyway. With two towels in my hand, I’m ready to go back downstairs, but I pause at the last second to grab condoms and lube because I don’t actually know what will happen or where, and I’m not pushing myself into those kinds of predictions.
A minute later, the towels get taken outside and placed onto lounge chairs, and I stash the rest near the built-in barbecue where they're out of sight, out of mind. I flip the switches for the lights in the pool and spa, then the one for the overhead string lights—ones so similar to Trailhead’s beer garden décor, though I’m almost certain mine came first. The music plays on, and I go inside again.
When I check the nearest clock, I’m grateful that my restlessness has run out of time, and I set the table before I do anything else. Back in the kitchen, I gather everything I’ll need to make dinner, this recipe memorized years ago. I work quickly, my solitary dance well-rehearsed, and I try not to think about why having someone in my bed has been easier than allowing myself a partner here. My chest is tight and I can’t explain the pain away as easily as I’d like to.
Dinner's almost ready when the doorbell rings and breaks one thought into three or four. I’ve let Darren out through the frontdoor twice, but it’s the first time he’s arrived there without following me in. I hurry to wash my hands before I answer, mad at myself for not leaving it open for him before I started on dinner.
“Hey, sorry, come in,” I say, backing away from the open door with a dish towel still in my hands.
He’s wearing swim trunks too, plus a long sleeve t-shirt and sneakers he toes off before he pushes them against the wall with a bare foot.
“What’re you sorry for? Hot guy invites me over for dinner and some time to relax in his gorgeous backyard? I have no complaints.”
“But youdohave an appetite?”
“Almost always,” he teases. “Even brought cheesecake bites for dessert, just in case we end up craving something sweet.”
I lock up behind him, and he leads me to my own kitchen, putting the cheesecake into the fridge without needing direction from me. Before he can close the door, I catch it and nod to the wine I left chilling there.
“Will you grab that and pour a couple of glasses, then take everything to the dining room?”
It’s then that Darren glances around the kitchen. “Jake–”
“Actually, there’s a wine chiller in there, too.”
“Jake.”
“You can put everything on the table and—”
“Jake. Stop. You made dinner alone. I got it.” He pulls the bottle, grabs the corkscrew I’d left with the glasses, and wields it as effortlessly as he does most things. With his hands full, he looksat me again. “Take a deep breath and finish whatever you need to finish. We can talk while we eat.”
His smile is more than I deserve when I’ve basically kicked him out of my kitchen, and Darren leaves before I can push or pull more than I already have. Alone again, I do exactly as he’d suggested, exhaling deeply as I plate the curry, rice, and naan. When I join him in the dining room, he’s not sitting yet, standing with his back to me as he studies the backyard. It’s difficult to see from where I am, but he turns his head just enough to make me think he’s looking at my reflection when he speaks.
“You know, being on the same page isn’t just about how we fuck.”
I nod because I think he can see it. “I know.”
Darren turns as I take a couple of steps and set the plates on the table. In another few seconds, we’re sitting within reach of each other, and he plays with the cuff of my hoodie, maybe just to keep from holding my hand.
“I told you that first night, if there’s any space that doesn’t get to belong to me, just say so. I’ve got plenty of places to go if I don’t want to give a shit about someone, but this isn’t that.”
I nod again and don’t take the thought of hisplenty of placesany further. “Thank you. For coming over.”
“I like it here.”
He’s said as much before, and a large bite helps keep me from nodding a third time before I swallow. Contrary to my mid-invitation teasing, I'd kept the curry reasonably mild on a night that could lead anywhere, but the flavors are abundant, and now I justwant more ofDarren.
“Talk to me. Please. I don’t—I’ve missed talking to you. I know times have changed and all that, but texting just isn’t the same.”
“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “And I’ve missed talking to you too, old man.”
The endearment is soft, but Darren compliments me on dinner, helps himself to some naan, then becomes animated as he catches me up on more than select trivia questions. He tells me that Noah, like Beau and Adrian, has been stopping by the bar a little less often. Riley, for as much as they strike me as a homebody, has been lingering around Trailhead after their shifts, and Darren mumbles something about writing on coasters that I don’t quite understand but ignore for now.
“Have you talked to V about replacing the bull with a band?”
“I got the green light, and a long lecture about figuring out how to clear out the space before I bring in anyone to fill it.”
“Ah, it’s almost like she knows you well.”