Defining Us: The Calvin & Eric Story (69 Bottles) (32 page)

“Yes, yes you do,” I tease him, tickling him lightly and he squirms under me, but I stop.
 

Before long, we’re both yawning and Eric reaches over, extinguishing the light, plunging us into darkness. I squeeze him a little harder, holding him to me before I lift up and find his lips, planting a warm, soft kiss against his lips and he returns it, equally as warm and gentle. “Good night,” I tell him softly before settling back into my special place against his chest. Realizing only now just how much we mesh together like this. Molded together like we’ve always been meant to be.

The idea of that sends my heart racing, for the first time, in a very good way.

“UMPHH!” I start awake after something pounds on my chest.

“Get off me.” There is a grunt followed by a strangled cry.
 

“What the fuck?” I shoot up, flipping on the light next to my bed.
 

“Get off of me.” The voice becomes more strained, more desperate. I look over and see Cal tossing his head back and forth, his eyes are screwed shut. “No!” he cries out in his sleep.
 

“Shit.”
 

I round the bed as quickly as I can, reaching his side as he continues to toss his head back and forth, he starts to thrash, his legs kicking. “Fuck. Calvin.” I don’t want to touch him. I don’t want to freak him out. “Calvin. Come on, Calvin, you’re dreaming, wake up.”
 

God, I feel so fucking stupid, but he’s obviously lost in the throes of this dream. He’s moaning and if it weren’t for the fact that there are no tears streaking down his face, I’d swear he was crying. “Calvin,” I say again, more clipped, sharper. He jolts to a stop. “Cal, come on, wake up.” He’s finally still. His breathing is hard, heavy, like he’s just run a marathon.
 

Unsure of what else to do, I reach down and tap his shoulder. He doesn’t respond, no movement, no nothing. In all the time I’ve shared a room with him, he’s never woken me up from a dream, much less a nightmare. I grab his shoulder, a little harder this time. “Calvin, come on, man, wake up,” I say and his eyes open lazily.
 

“Hey.” His voice is soft and I deflate completely, kneeling next to the bed. “What’s wrong?”
 

Jesus, he doesn’t remember. “You were having a nightmare.”
 

“I know, but…”
 

“Calvin, you were thrashing all over the place, you hit me in the chest.”
 

He scoots back away from me, fear in his eyes. “I didn’t.”
 

“You did, but I’m glad you did. It woke me up.”
 

‘Jesus Eric, I’m so sorry, I…shit, I didn’t know I…I thought they were all in my head,” he says as he sits up.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m just, I’ve spent so much time sharing a room with you and I’ve never seen or heard you like that before.” I look at him, and I know the concern for him that I’m feeling is etched on my face. “What were you dreaming about?”
 

“They started up again after I told you.” He scrubs at his face. “I’ve never told anyone before, and I haven’t really dealt with the deep down emotions of all this shit in a really long time, couple that with the phone call, I think I’m just overwhelmed.” He sighs. “I was dreaming about him, the asshole in the institution.”
 

“Oh fuck,” I breathe. Suddenly I feel very guilty because I can’t help wondering if what we did earlier today played a part in pulling up that dream for him. “Cal, I’m sorry,”
 

His hand comes to my cheek, cupping it. “For what? You didn’t do that, you didn’t drudge him back up.”
 

“No, but…what happened earlier.”
 

 
“Oh, no, I don’t think that had anything to do with it,” he tells me.
 

“Are you sure?”
 

He nods his head. “I have regular dreams about that place. I guess I just never knew I got so violent.”
 

“And vocal,” I tell him.
 

He doesn’t say anything, but I can see the concern and sadness in his eyes. I just give him a small smile and we sit there like that for a few more minutes.
 

“What time is it?” he asks and I look past him to my clock.
 

“Just after six.”
 

“What time do we need to leave for the airport?” His voice is softer, calmer now.
 

“Around eight-thirty or so,” I tell him.
 

“Well, I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep. Why don’t we get moving and get the car packed up and grab a bite to eat on our way.” His suggestion fills me with warmth and I smile widely at him. I don’t want to press him any further about the dream. I know that he’s told me enough about the institution and what happened to him there that I don’t want him to dredge it back up.
 

“Sounds good to me,” I tell him, thinking he’s probably right and that we should just get moving.
 

We got moving alright. We got showered and dressed, separately, against my wishes at least. Though I never expressed those wishes to him. It just seems like every time I want to make a move, advance things between us, something stands in the way. If it wasn’t his dream, it would definitely be the time issues. But we’re both dressed and his car packed up with both of our stuff and we’re moving by seven-thirty. Headed toward Burbank and the private plane that will take us to Denver.
 

Once we’ve sat down in a little family owned diner about ten minutes from the airport, I look at Calvin, a serious look on my face and he recoils slightly. I laugh.
 

“Dude, don’t do that,” he scolds before laughing.
 

“I’m sorry, though I do have a serious question to ask you.”
 

He shrugs. “Go for it.”

“Now that we’re here, in one car, all of our stuff together…what exactly are we telling the guys?”
 

He doesn’t answer. In fact, he dodges me completely and looks at the menu. What the fuck? I roll my eyes, trying not to get irritated at his complete lack of conversation on something that I need to know how he feels about. I sigh and let it go for the moment, picking up my menu, though my appetite isn’t what it was when we came in.
 

The waitress comes, takes our drink orders and then leaves.
 

“Cal?”
 

“Yeah?” he says in a way that is almost dismissive.
 

“Did you hear me earlier?”
 

“Yeah, I heard you, I just don’t know if you’re going to like my answer.”
 

I want to roll my eyes. “If you don’t want to tell them about us, I’m okay with that, but you know as well as I do that they’re going to figure it out eventually. They’re not stupid.”
 

He sighs like he is preparing for war, but he gets a reprieve when the waitress shows up with our drinks and takes out orders.
 

When she’s gone I look at him, hoping he’s finally going to stop dodging me. He does, briefly, while taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m not ready to tell them anything yet.”
 

“Okay. Can you explain to me why you feel you’re not?”
 

He picks at his placemat. He’s thinking and I can tell because that’s the only time he fidgets with anything, much like my tongue thing. I wait patiently for him to answer me. After a few heartbeats he finally does. “I’m not ready to explain my past to them.”
 

I cock my head. “What does your past have to do with telling them we’re together?” I ask, thoroughly confused.
 

“I’m not sure I can do this publicly. You saw me last night, when we went out. If we tell them that we’re working on something between the two of us, but yet they don’t see us together or see us acting like we’re together, they are going to wonder why and in order to explain that to them, I have to explain my past and I’m not ready to do that yet.” His voice is nearly a whisper before he gets to the end of his declaration.
 

“So we’re clear, am I not allowed to…uh, are we just supposed to pretend we’re friends, like we’ve always been?”
 

“If you don’t mind.”
 

Yeah, I fucking mind, but suddenly something occurs to me. “Do you want us to be together? Or are you having second thoughts?”
 

His eyes dart to mine, real deep down fear reflects back at me, fear of us not being together or fear that I don’t want us to be together. “I want to be with you,” he breathes quickly.
 

“Then that’s all I need, Calvin,” I tell him. “We don’t have to tell anyone about what’s between us. Yet.” I tack that on because he needs to know that eventually it will come out and eventually they are going to notice, because no matter how hard either one of us tries, if this is truly what we want, then it is going to be made obvious, but I think that is what he wants, he wants it to be made obvious so that he doesn’t have to actually tell anyone. “Are you afraid that if we tell them we’re together that they’ll hate us or judge us?”
 

Calvin doesn’t answer that question, but he doesn’t have to, it’s spelled out all over his face and in the stiffness of his body when I bring it up.
 

“It would be awfully hypocritical of them to think that, don’t you think?” I raise an eyebrow.
 

He just nods, but we’re interrupted again by the waitress bringing us our breakfast. We drop the conversation there, for now. He seems a little upset and I don’t want to make him angry, let alone put him in a foul mood when we go to get on the plane, everyone will suspect something is wrong and start poking at the bear and that won’t be good for anyone.

BOARDING the plane was interesting. We got a few weird looks from the gang when we arrived together, but no one pressed. Dex and Raine were all over each other and Addison pretty much passed out the moment the wheels left the ground. Poor girl. Talon had told me that he and Kyle wanted to leave Addison at home so she could rest, but she of course, in true Addison style, wasn’t having that. When we landed in Denver, it was a flurry of activity to offload band gear and then personal gear. Casey and Troy took all of our stuff to the hotel and the rest of the gang took us to the arena. We need to run some sound checks before we can veg for a while. The bus and gear got here ahead of us on Monday, which was the plan all along. They drove up from Florida while we got to take a break.