The Hardest Fall (Roadmap to Your Heart Book 3) (12 page)

I
took
a deep breath and decided that maybe it would do me good to release this burden weighing me down. “You remember my friend Alan who passed away?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, sighing and sitting back in her chair to get more comfortable. “That was a sad time for you.”

I bobbed my head up and down. “He was probably my closest friend.”

She wrinkled her nose and looked away, clearly uncomfortable with my statement.

I shifted forward in my seat. “What?” When her eyes darted over my shoulder I said, “Tell me, please.”

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever understood that,” she replied, her gaze finally leveling on me. “You two were so different.”

That sentiment I understood, because we definitely were. But I desperately wanted to hear her take on the man. “How?”

“You’re more compassionate, philanthropic, I guess,” she said. “And he was more…egocentric, concerned about status and material things. In my opinion, you gave him too much credit as a friend.”

I sat there stunned at her description. She would have seen us coming and going in and out of the shop as teens, checking in with my dad, before heading off to the park or the theater. I was sort of his second-fiddle friend, I supposed, when he didn’t have a party to attend or a girlfriend to screw around with.

“Yeah, I get that,” I said, clearing my throat. It had suddenly become parched from the memories hitting so close to home. “But in school he was the only one who…he always tried to include me at lunch and stood up for me against bullies.”

I wouldn’t share with her how many fights I got into with kids. I was seen as scrappy and broody. At least one of those things wasn’t true anymore.

But then something else began forming in my mind. A different kind of memory of Alan and things he seemed interested in. The porno sites he showed me as well as jacking off regularly in his room, when his mom and dad weren’t home. They were pretty strict and had high expectations of him.

I figured that was just kid stuff and I had developed later than him. I masturbated way more in college than in high school. Maybe Alan was just trying to figure himself out too and maybe he could let it all hang out with me. I was pretty quiet and never razzed him or gave him any shit for it.

But hiding a relationship was something altogether different. It was deceitful and hurtful to everyone involved.

“Why were you bullied?” Annie asked, a pained look on her face.

“I was a foster kid.” I shrugged. “Didn’t help when your foster siblings had friends at the same school. And somehow everybody knew I’d been homeless. That’s not a rumor you shake easily. Kids asking which bridge you’ll sleep under that night, shit like that.”

Thankfully, New York was a pretty diverse city, so I didn’t have the added bonus of kids giving me a hard time about the color of my skin. I was called Samoan a couple of times and asked if I wore a grass skirt but that was mild in comparison to the other stuff.

Annie shook her head, her eyes growing misty.

“Anyway…one of the last times I visited Alan in the hospital,” I said, drumming the tabletop with my knuckles, as I worked up the nerve to finally tell somebody. “He asked me to do him a favor.”

She became motionless and swallowed roughly as if she knew something huge was coming. “What was it?”

“To retrieve a private envelope from his boat.” As soon as I said the words I felt my chest loosen up. “Something secret that he didn’t want his family to find.”

“Oh no...” she said, slamming her hand over her mouth. “I’m afraid of where this is leading.”

I nodded grimly. “He asked me to destroy it, but then in the next breath said he wished he could give it to him…”

Her face scrunched up. “To who?”

“The person whose photos and printed emails were in the envelope,” I said. “The person he was having an affair with.”

“Well, hell. I always knew that marriage was a sham,” she said, gritting her teeth.

“How so?” I asked, more than curious what she thought.

“I wondered if they were staying together for the sake of the kids or maybe their public image,” she said. “Sure I only saw them here or there at events that you were a part of, but Alan always had a wandering eye and Denise didn’t seem to pay him any attention. They would show up and leave together but in between, they didn’t ever seek each other out.”

“You noticed all of that from only a handful of times being around them?” I asked wondering why in the hell I hadn’t clued in. But maybe by that time we had already begun growing apart or our connection was more tenuous and shallow than I thought.

“I’m pretty perceptive,” she said, grinning. “Just ask Karen.”

“Yeah, I guess you always have been,” I said. “Probably why my dad liked having you around.”

A sad smile lined her face at the mention of my father. The phone rang just then, giving us both a moment of reprieve. As I explained to the customer how much it would cost to get his loafers resoled, I felt Annie staring at me, as if appraising me in a new light. Feeling like I was in the hot seat, I turned toward the window as I gave the customer directions to the shop.

“So,” she said, bring us back to the topic at hand. “Instead of destroying that envelope, you opened it, thinking that was what Alan would want you to do?”

“Yep and now I wish I hadn’t,” I said speaking rapidly. “Or maybe that’s not exactly true.”

“It was Tate wasn’t it?” she said and my breath caught as I stared her down.

“Yeah…” I said. “So I sought him out, to pass him the information.”

“Except you became attracted to him instead.”

I gave a curt nod. “I meant to give him the envelope, but somehow I couldn’t. I wondered if it would wreck him. He seemed so…together, so alive in a way I had never been. So I just kept showing up at his performances and one night he came and talked to me.”

“Because he’s attracted to you,” she said, so plainly. “And he thought maybe you were there because you were interested in him too?”

I cringed. “I never gave out those signals. But damn it, maybe I did. I just couldn’t stop looking at him, wanting to know more about him.”

“Obviously, it’s mutual,” she said, shrugging. “Do you want to be with Tate?”

My breath caught in the back of my throat at the very idea. I never thought about it in quite that way. I did want to be with him. Badly. And that frightened the hell out of me. “I don’t know if Tate is ever
with
anybody.”

She stared at me a long moment as if thinking it all through.

“Did he know that Alan was married?” she asked.

“I…really don’t think so.” Call it instinct. Though he said as much at the bar that one night—that Alan was hiding stuff too. I guess I had given him the benefit of the doubt. So maybe he’d do the same for me down the road when all of this came to a head.

“He covered for you, that one day in the shop,” she said, her finger tapping against her chin. “And the way he looks at you. I think it’s obvious he cares about you.”

“Is it?” I said, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. My fingers found purchase on the side of the table as I gripped it tightly.

I could not imagine Tate feeling anything other than a passing attraction. But then I remembered all of our talks. What he said after I kissed him in the bathroom. Falling asleep on his lap. He could have easily pushed me off. Instead I woke up to his fingers in my hair. Fuck, that felt good. I even feigned sleep for a while so that I could experience more of it.

“You have to come clean and then let the pieces fall where they may,” she said. “You know that, right?”

“Yes,” I muttered. “But the idea of hurting him or imagining him never speaking to me again...”

Her eyes lit up. She had probably never seen me so emotional. Except after my dad died. But even then I had reserved my tears for behind closed doors. “Wow, you really do like him.”

I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I don’t know how this happened.”

“You can’t base a relationship—even a friendship—on a lie.”

“I know what I have to do,” I said grimly. “Thank you. Can you please not mention—”

“I won’t tell a soul.”

S
ebastian
: Can we talk?

Me: Sure.

Sebastian: In person?

Me: Tori won’t be around tonight. Unless you want to meet somewhere in public?

Sebastian: No, that works. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.

I figured Sebastian needed to discuss the kiss. Needed to wipe his conscience clear when all I could do was think about how his lips moved over mine. But why not just do it in a text? Why not just say,
Sorry about that kiss, see you around?

Probably because Sebastian was way deeper than that, even though he kept a part of himself partitioned off. Boiled down to the underpinnings of truth, he was still just that kid under the bridge. Protecting his belongings—his heart—making sure nobody wandered away with it.

Sebastian was also a caretaker—that much was evident from his work in the community. So he wouldn’t want to leave me hanging. That was what this was really about. Making sure I was okay so he could walk away clean, with his perfectly prescribed life intact.

But damn, seeing him raw and uncalculated the other night in the restroom was amazing to watch. The way he pinned me against the wall without any forethought and acted on pure instinct was incredibly hot. It made me almost desperate to see what he would look like when he came undone.

It was best to wipe that kind of thinking from my brain. I was so preoccupied with thoughts of Sebastian that I couldn’t even flirt shamelessly the other night at my show. I might’ve been in character but even Frieda Love wouldn’t let me hide behind my craving for this one man.

After I recorded another YouTube video about manscaping, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had applied foundation, blush, and lipstick to show how a clean shave helped create a smooth skin surface but I didn’t make any effort to clean it off. Besides, it was minimal and Sebastian had seen me like this on more than one occasion. Instead, I paced, and played games online until Sebastian arrived.

I buzzed him up and waited impatiently until he knocked. Of course he looked amazing with dark-washed jeans and a button-down shirt rolled up to expose his glorious forearms. Was he trying to kill me? His distressed leather backpack was slung over his shoulder and the hair was windswept away from his forehead. I couldn’t help zeroing in on his lips, which were red and a little swollen like maybe he had been biting them as he walked here.

He looked so damn anxious, gripping the strap of his bag as if it contained dynamite, that I offered him a beer.

“That would be great.” Removing his backpack, he placed it on the floor. He stared down at it a minute before turning to me and fishing the beer from my hand.

Looking me up and down I could see it plainly in his eyes—the lust, the longing. He was battling with himself, his emotions warring beneath the surface of his eyes. The idea of him letting it all hang out again like he did with that reckless kiss made my cock stir beneath my zipper.

I sat down on the couch to gain some levity and after considering it a moment, he joined me, and took a long swig of his beer as if to get liquid courage.

“Look, I know why you’re here…” I said, wanting to get to the point already, especially if we were going to part ways. “And what you’re going to say.”

His beer stopped midway to his mouth. “I doubt that.”

“It’s about what happened in the bathroom at Ruby Redd’s.” I licked my dry lips and his eyes flared. “Damn, Sebastian, you know how to kiss.”

His cheeks colored and he looked away when he mumbled, “For a straight guy?”

I stared at him. Shit, had he seen my video? He probably would’ve mentioned if he had subscribed. It was probably just frustration, same as I felt, when I blurted, “Pretty sure you’re not straight.”

I braced myself for his response. No matter how much of an upstanding guy I thought he was, dealing with newfound sexuality was difficult for anybody.

His eyes met mine. “I know I’m not.”

My breath caught in my throat and suddenly everything I’d prepped myself for had flown out the window. I wanted to be in his life, even if we ended up being friends. I wasn’t in the market for a relationship again anyway. But damn it, there was a larger part of me that wanted to work through this with him and see where it might lead us.

“Did you enjoy kissing me?” I asked as he worried his lip between his teeth.

“God, yes.” He shut his lids and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes his irises appeared darker if that were even possible. “Very much.”

We stared at each other as our knees pressed together, both of us seeming to crave the contact. The electricity in the air between us seemed to crackle and intensify.

“I understand this is all new and scary for you,” I said and again there were warring emotions in his eyes.

“It’s not so much that as—”

“Wait, let me finish.”
Before I chicken out.
“I want you to kiss me again. Touch me. I understand your brain is all fucked up and being in this situation is confusing. But it’s okay…I just want….”

He shook his head almost violently. “Tate, I don’t think you should—”

“Just hear me out. I obviously like being with men,” I said. “I’d enjoy being with you. You can take it slow and if it becomes too much or not at all what you want, we can agree to walk away.”

Was I really saying this? Placing my heart in such a precarious position? I was careening down a slick road and I couldn’t stop myself. My pull to him was that strong.

“Why would you agree to that kind of thing?” he said, his voice containing a spark of anger. “You told me once that you hid yourself for… for somebody.”

“This isn’t the same thing. I’m not hiding anymore,” I said. “I know who I am now.”

“I just—damn it,” he muttered as he set his beer on the coffee table. “This wasn’t the conversation I thought we were going to have.”

I caught his hand in mine because he was actually fucking trembling. His palm was warm and as I scraped my fingernails over it, he shuddered. It was all I could do not to drag him toward me and kiss the hell out of him.

When he seemed to lean into my touch, I knew he was feeling the pull as much as I was. “You can make the first move.” My heart was pounding so hard in my chest hoping like hell he didn’t run out of here. “Or not. Whatever you want.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this.” Eyes wide, he glanced over at his bag on the floor one more time and I thought for sure he was going to bolt.

When I traced my thumb over his knee, his eyes snapped up to mine. “Do you want to kiss me again?”

“Fuck yes,” he said without hesitation.

I could feel his knee quivering when I asked, “Touch me?”

“Yes.” He forced his fist into his lap to adjust himself. That’s when I noticed his cock tenting his pants. It made mine stir in response. This was definitely not one-sided.

“No pressure,” I said, letting go of his knee. No way did I want to crowd his brain any further. My heart was in my throat wondering if I was going to end up ruining a friendship if that’s what he decided in the end. “If you get up right now and leave, I still want to be your friend.”

He sat perfectly still watching me, contemplating my words.

“God, Tate. I’ve never felt so…” he said. “You’re so sexy.”

I inhaled a lungful of air. I’d been complimented by plenty of men and women but somehow coming from him it felt so raw, so authentic.

“I…I can’t.” He looked so scared, so indecisive. “If I touch you I’ll just want more.”

Jesus, I wanted more too. “How is that a bad thing?” I whispered.

Fuck, all I wanted was a chance. Maybe he would be worth the risk.

I stayed perfectly still as he angled closer to me. “Did you make a video today?” he asked as his fingers rose up and his thumb drew patterns over my cheeks and forehead.

I was panting at this point as I nodded, hoping he’d press his lips against mine. I’d never cared this much about a fucking kiss.

His fingers trailed downward, over my jaw and to my throat, my Adam’s apple feeling large and intrusive as he studied me. “You need somebody to treasure you, Tate. Somebody who knows your value, your worth.”

A groan released from my throat. “Fuck, Sebastian. Why do you always have to say such heavy shit? We can keep this light, simple.”
It would be easier that way.

“It’s not simple.” He burrowed his hand in the hair at the nape of my neck and then his eyes met mine. “You know that.”

When he rose to his feet and backed away my heart dropped to my stomach. “Give me a second.”

He strode to the bathroom, took one step inside, and returned to the couch with a wad of Kleenex in his hand.

His fingers reached for my jaw and he turned my chin upward. “What the hell are you doing?”

“If I’m going to kiss you, I want to taste
you
. Not your favorite shade of lipstick,” he said swiping at my mouth as the tissue turned a rosy shade of pink. “Because fuck, Tate. You’re beautiful with it on, but you’re stunning all on your own.”

I literally couldn’t breathe because his words slammed into me like a freight train.

I felt the press of his thumb and forefinger as he gently held my face and wiped at my upper and lower lip. His eyes were determined but also soft and assessing and the only way I knew he was nervous was because he was panting, the small puffs of air mixing with mine.

The distance between us narrowed down to nothing and
everything
all in the pulse of one heartbeat.

After he was satisfied he’d gotten rid of all of the lipstick, he set the Kleenex on the coffee table and turned toward me, his eyes lazily taking in every angle of my face.

I wanted to say something sarcastic to lighten the mood but I simply couldn’t in that instant. My brain was like a dull ache, trying to take a snapshot of the gravity of this moment and sear it into memory.

Finally, I got my lips unstuck. “You like what you see?”

His hand reached behind my neck and his fingers latched on, drawing me closer. “I always like what I see.”

I closed my eyes and took in his words, only cracking open my lids when I felt his breath ghost against my lips. When our foreheads touched, I noticed light brown flecks in his irises that I could’ve sworn hadn’t been there the first time.

Closing the space between us, he rested his lips against mine, as if getting a feel for how our mouths fit together. I held my head perfectly still, my hands at my sides, even though I was anxious to touch him. He moved his lips fractionally back and forth over mine before his tongue darted out to trace the outline of my mouth.

I died a slow and painful death waiting for him to finally put his tongue in my mouth. When he licked the seam of my lips, all the nerve endings in my body came alive and traveled to two distinct pulsing places…my cock and my chest.