"Let me run to the restroom really quickly before we leave."
Jim's all sweet smiles and doe eyes as he makes room for me to get up out of our booth.
I walk past the bar where Gareth and his friends are, making a point not to look his way. The best scenario for both of us is to act like we don't know each other. What's he going to do? Introduce me to his homophobic friends? What am I going to do? Introduce one customer to another? Yeah, no.
I shoulder into the restroom and relieve myself at the urinal. I'm washing my hands when the door is thrown open hard enough that it bounces against the wall.
I'm rushed before I even get a chance to dry off my hands, and shoved into a stall. I'm a big guy and am not used to being manhandled.
When I get my bearings, it's Gareth, and he looks positively unhinged.
He's a few inches shorter than me, but he's pressed me against the wall with his forearm to my chest. His chest is heaving, his eyes blurry, his hair unkempt.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" he whisper-shouts at me, tears brimming in his eyes.
I place my hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him.
"Gareth, I don't know what you mean."
His forearm holds me against the bathroom tiles. He's shaking. I could easily overpower him, but I don't think that's what he needs in this moment. His other hand roams wildly, frantically, clutching at my neck, my hair, my chest, until he shoves his hand roughly down my slacks, eliciting a grunt from me. He slams his mouth to mine before I can push him back. I don't want our first kiss to be like this - angry and hurt and horrible.
His wild eyes finally latch onto mine, and he cups my dick hard. It swells at his touch, but it's not the right moment. This isn't sexual. He's angry and trying to claim me.
"Why the fuck are you touching him?! You're mine. Goddamnit, Trey, you'remine," he growls, a tear finally breaking free.
Jesus, I've really hurt him. How do I tell him that I'm not sleeping with anyone else? That I want to be his. I want him to be mine. I was going to ask him out, on an actual date soon.
But a sickening realization settles over me. What if he doesn't want to be "out" yet?
"Walk back out of here holding my hand. Introduce me to your coworkers as your boyfriend," I challenge. It's a shitty thing to do, and everyone's experience coming out of the closet is unique and shouldn't be pushed. But I can't be with him the way we both want, if he's still firmly in the closet. He leans back as if I've punched him, fear crossing his features.
My stomach sinks. He's not ready. How long am I going to wait for him? I'm here, ready to quit sex work for him, ready to move him into my house so the kids can have their own rooms again and a backyard.
And he's still got both feet firmly in the closet. He's been so comfortable being with a man, but apparently the progress he's made in the bedroom hasn't spilled over into his public life.
"I... I... I can't," he whispers, horrified. My heart breaks. For myself. For him. I've fallen in love with him over these past few months. Against my will. I knew he was trouble. I just didn't realize how much this would hurt. It's not even a rejection. It's not an "it's me, not you". It's that his fear won't let him. And I won't help him stay in the closet by being a dirty little secret. If it's what I thought he needed, I would. But he deserves to live and love out loud. Fuck his coworkers. They don't even know him. They're not his friends. And he's still terrified of their opinion.
I sag in defeat. "That's what I thought."
And when I turn to leave, he lets me.
Chapter twenty
Gareth
Trey: I've enjoyed our time together, but I feel like you've outgrown what my services can provide. It's been an honor working for you, but I'm afraid that if we continue it'll be holding you back from finding what you truly deserve
He's breaking up with me. Over a text. It would be a shitty move if we'd been together in the first place. He may have started to bend his rules for me, but it's not like we were dating.
I'm only in love with the man. And probably have been since high school, even when I was pretending I wasn't.
Tears pour down my face. I don't even bother to wipe them. This hurts. Everything hurts. My heart, my head, my stomach. Even my muscles are protesting at never being able to see him again. To touch him again. To make him smile.
I try to tell myself there are more fish in the sea, but none of them are Trey. So, I'll be alone for the rest of my miserable life.I'll have the kids to keep me going until they turn eighteen. Then what?
I take up bowling? Bingo?
Fuck, I'm a sad sack tonight. I want to be pissed at him, but I know this is all on me. I couldn't control how I felt, seeing his arm on someone not me. It had been a long, shitty day at work, I’d been craving a whiskey since noon, and that anger from high school came rushing back. He had something I didn't. Someone else had something I couldn't. A decade later and I've learned nothing. Deep down I’m still that angry, sad boy, lashing out because he's out and I'm not.