The Hardest Fall (Roadmap to Your Heart Book 3) (9 page)

S
ebastian had fallen
asleep for the second night in a row, this time with his head in my lap. I attempted to stay as still as possible while my fingers lightly brushed his hair, because given the story he’d told me the other night about snoozing under a bridge, I had a feeling nights were rough for him even as an adult.

We’d just been to Safe Harbor, where I’d presented Chris with a bag of women’s clothing and then sat and talked to her for a while in the common room at the center. When I saw how grateful she was, I was glad to be able to give back in such a simple way.

And it was all due to the man in front of me, who was now napping soundly after eating more ice cream and watching
Anchorman 2
.

As our bodies naturally gravitated together on the bed during the movie, I did nothing to put a halt to it and I knew I was in for a world of hurt—Sebastian was so confused about his desires and feelings. But watching him sleep—his gorgeous face relaxed, as if he were putting his trust in me when his secrets and convictions were locked away in a soundproof vault—was a treat in and of itself.

My fingers dug in, exploring the dense mass of hair at his nape, and he sighed into my touch. It made my heart stutter and in that moment, I didn’t want to fuck Sebastian, I wanted to hold him. To wrap him in my arms and bury my nose in his shoulder, smell him, touch him, feel his weight against me. There was a certain security in that with a man like Sebastian, a feeling I didn’t get from just anybody.

But as soon as he snapped out of it, he’d be filled with regret. He might’ve been unique in a hundred different ways, but not that one. Closeted guys could be ten kinds of fucked up and I normally stayed far away. So why hadn’t I this time?

One of the reasons was that the man I had come to know was decent and solid and a standup guy. A man who didn’t hold back with things that mattered like treating people fairly and with dignity. If I pushed him to talk, more than likely he would. He had said the other night that he was attracted to me plain and simple. He was allowed the time to sort it out in his head.

Sebastian shifted and roused, suddenly aware that his head had ended up in my lap. When he continued to nod off during the movie, I nudged him to lie in the sheets and apparently my thighs had made a good pillow. I wasn’t about to dispute that.

“Yo,” I whispered, taking a whiff of his heady scent. Like leather and polish. And refinement. “Sleepy head.”

“Fuck, I crashed out on you again,” he mumbled in a groggy voice. “You must think I’m a barrel of laughs.”

“For sure.” My hand stroked down his arm, while I still had the chance. He didn’t make the motion to shift away, as if lulled by my touch. “You say all kinds of things in your sleep. You give away all of your secrets.”

He eyes widened in brief horror before he recovered from my quip, but he still didn’t try to move. Maybe he felt just as relaxed and comfortable as I did. “You’re full of shit.”

I shrugged and as my fingers traced over his chin to his ear, I felt him shiver. “You’ll never know.”

“Yeah?” he turned to glance up at me, his tongue darting out to wet his mouth. The sleep-crumpled look was adorable on him. “What kind of things have I been mumbling?”

“It’s been Tate this and Tate that,” I said and he scoffed. “
Tate is so sexy. I bet he has a huge dick
.”

When his eyes shot up to mine, realization dawned that he was lying pretty damn close to my cock and it was slowly stiffening now no matter how much I willed it not to.

The molecules in the room began to swirl and thicken as we stared at each other. I was aware of how our breaths had changed to small pants and how the airspace between our bodies diminished rapidly as I inched downward to get closer to him.

“Tate,” he whispered in a ragged voice, as his eyebrows bunched together, studying me.

“Sebastian,” I muttered back, as his gaze slid lazily from my eyes to my mouth and back up again.

His fingers reached up slowly—so slowly—and grazed my jawline. I held my breath because fuck…in that moment, I realized how much I wanted him to kiss me. For him to make the first move. For him to place his mouth right up against mine so we could share the same air while I tasted his full lips.

Suddenly we heard the key in the latch and the apartment door burst open. “Tate, I’m home.”

Sebastian jerked up to a sitting position. “I should take off.” He rubbed his eyes and dragged his hands down his wrinkled shirtsleeves before standing up on wobbly legs. “I’ll see you later.”

Fuck
, I mumbled to myself, wondering what would’ve happened had Tori not come home.

* * *

“
A
re you meeting Sebastian again
?” Tori asked me the following afternoon with glittering eyes. She’d come home early to finish up some paperwork on her laptop.

I slipped into my red Converse kicks at the door. “Nope, I’m going to see his co-worker, Annie. Sebastian brought her some stuff from my closet that I figured was a lost cause and she worked on them, so I could—”

“Enough with the excuses.” She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest as she leaned against the fridge. Classic mom pose. She’d be good at it someday. But now she was more like a pain in the ass sibling. “You like him. Just be straight with me.”

“No way I can be straight,” I said, twirling my hand. “Not when God gave me these lips to wrap around—”

“Don’t joke about this,” she hissed. “It’s nice seeing you flustered about somebody. Somebody who’s a decent person.”

I sighed. “Listen, nothing has happened, we’re just hanging out…as friends.”

This thing between Sebastian and I was different than what had gone on with Alan. Alan wanted me in drag behind closed doors. Almost like he was psyching himself up, lying to himself about exactly who he was with. Since then I hadn’t hung out with anybody I was attracted to as much as I had with Sebastian. Of course Tori was going to have questions.

“So what makeup trick should I YouTube this week?” I asked in an effort to change the subject.

Tori rolled her eyes, fully aware of my deception. “How to get rid of dark circles? Remember that trick you taught me?”

“Good plan,” I said, heading toward the door. “I also got more orders for my shirts since the last video.”

“You’re getting quite a following,” she said, pouring the last of the coffee she’d made from the pot. “Keep it up and people are going to start taking notice.”

“What kind of people?” I asked, grabbing my keys.

“Advertisers, goofball,” she said. “You know how this works. Don’t pretend you aren’t a fan of Joey and Daniel on YouTube. They only have to record a grocery store trip and they’re rolling in the backers.”

I did know all of that, but I actually didn’t think it would work for me. Not exactly. I felt like a jack of all trades, master of none. A little lost when it came to figuring out what to do with my life.

“Just be careful,” Tori said as I was walking out the door. “Be honest with yourself, and up front with him when the time comes.”

I spun around to look at her. “How is this any different than what I’ve been doing with guys for ages?”

“You know how,” she said, after sipping from her cup. “This isn’t just physical attraction. This involves feelings.”

“I feel
friendship,”
I said, trying the lie out on my lips. “I haven’t had somebody to hang out with like this since Dean at NC State.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” she said, fluttering her hand. “You have plenty of friends and you know it.”

I
went
out the door into the light breeze and cloudless sky, on a perfect spring day. I walked past Washington Square Park to Fifth Avenue. As I neared Rosie’s Repair Shop, I noticed a crowd on the sidewalk. What the hell was going on?

Men and women lined the walkway waiting to get inside. Upon closer inspection, some were carrying what looked like all their possessions in torn bags or dirty pillowcases. Were these friends from Safe Harbor?

“What’s happening here?” I asked one older gentleman I didn’t recognize from the couple of times I’d been to the soup kitchen.

“First Wednesday of every month,” he said with a mouthful of missing teeth. “Baz hands out free shoes or repairs.”

I looked down at the feet of the people in line. Most had on shoes that had seen better days. A couple of men were barefoot.

When I spotted Annie standing just inside the door she waved me inside. As soon as I stepped into the repair shop, my gaze snapped to the back of Sebastian. He was sitting down at the shoeshine bench bent over a man’s feet, fitting a pair of black oxford style shoes.

“Sebastian helps the homeless once a month with his exchange program,” Annie said close to my ear. “Customers donate new or gently worn shoes. He throws in a shine if they want one. Gives them a sense of pride and normalcy.”

My heart was in my throat. Who the hell was this person? He was so generous and in comparison, I was so shallow. But Sebastian certainly didn’t give all of himself away. There were pieces that he kept locked up tight. Pieces that he kept protected, like his mother had shielded him from the elements those nights under the bridge. Parts that intrigued me and endeared him to me more each day.

“See that board?” Annie pointed to a corkboard in the corner of the room. Pink tickets were tacked to it haphazardly, each with a large number scrawled across the front. I hadn’t noticed it the last time I visited. It was obviously a placeholder, keeping track of the shoe sizes they had in stock for the homeless and it was a fucking brilliant idea.

“How can I help?” I asked, swiping my hands on my jeans.

“Seriously?” she replied, gratitude in her gaze.

“Please.” I looked back at the long line and figured they could use all the help they could get.

She handed me a clipboard. “Find out what sizes the men and women need. If it’s one we don’t have, ask them to come back next time and we’ll try our best to get it in.”

“Will do,” I said, swallowing. The idea that I’d have to turn somebody away didn’t sit well with me.

Just then, Sebastian looked over his shoulder, surprise crinkling his eyes. I smiled and motioned to the clipboard.

I walked through the maze of empty shoeboxes to get to him and bent down to ear level. “You never cease to amaze me,
Baz
.”

He inhaled a sharp breath as he sat up straighter.

“Give me some time,” he replied in a tight voice. “I’m sure I’ll disappoint you soon enough.”

“Doubt it,” I said, and then I was off with the checklist, helping in any way I could. Along the way, I heard stories about how some of the men and women became homeless and how long they’d been out on the street. A couple I recognized from the subway entrance on 4th Street and their journeys helped fill in the blanks.

I pictured that small boy beneath the bridge, attempting to nestle into his mother’s warmth and I understood why Sebastian did these things. He obviously felt a profound connection to those who had little to nothing in this world.

The people patiently waited in line, and as they stepped inside the building, were handed a pink ticket that was exchanged for a box of shoes. Almost like a barter, it became a tangible way to get their immediate needs met. It made me want to buy shoes for everyone who needed to be turned away. I realized just how essential footwear was for those who spent most of their time outdoors.

“What else do they need?” I asked Annie the next time we were both in the doorway.

“Clean socks and underwear.” I had the urge to run to the nearest department store, but there were none in close proximity, so I made a mental note to stock up on some items for future donation.

We worked for a couple of solid hours as the line slowly diminished. Annie’s girlfriend Karen stopped by at the end of the day in her nursing scrubs and Annie introduced us. Sebastian finally caught a break at the shoeshine stand, where he had worked nonstop without a break.

“You guys want to grab some dinner?” Karen asked the pair of us.

Annie seemed uncertain, as she looked at Sebastian, like she had never extended the offer before. Or maybe hadn’t in a long time.

“I’m starving,” Sebastian said, his tone a bit hollow. “But I could just as easily heat something up at home.”

“Let’s do it,” I said as a slow grin appeared on Sebastian’s wary face.

After Sebastian and Annie closed up shop the four of us walked to a diner close to Union Square where we sat in a booth and ordered soup and sandwiches.

“Thank you for all your help,” Sebastian said across the table from me.

“When did you start offering footwear to the homeless?” I asked, more than a little curious, as I took a bite of my fry.

“It began when his dad was still around,” Annie said, and Sebastian offered a small smile tinged with pain.

“There was a pizzeria on 11
^th
that was offering something similar with plain and pepperoni slices,” Sebastian explained. “Like a pay it forward kind of thing and I figured the same thing could work for us, except with shoes.”

“His father thought customers would never offer a pair of shoes or even their castoffs,” Annie said, patting Sebastian’s hand. “Their generosity shocked him.”

Sebastian shrugged. “If you give people the opportunity, they always surprise you. In more ways than one.”

Our eyes met and held across the table and I could feel the warmth radiating in my chest and then up the line of my neck. Sebastian looked away first after clearing his throat.

“Almost forgot. I made you both a shirt as a thank you.” I pulled one of them from my bag and handed it to Sebastian. He unfolded the soft black material, amusement dancing in his eyes as he read the white-lettered inscription: I Love Stilettos. Get Over It.

Annie barked out a laugh and slapped the table in excitement as she and Karen snickered at the clever saying on the identical shirt I had created for her. “Perfect, thank you.”

I turned to Sebastian. “You don’t have to wear it; I know it’s not your style. It was just—”

“Maybe I’ll surprise you.” He cocked a brow at me. When his foot shifted beneath the table and innocently grazed against mine it felt like a shock wave buzzing across all the fine hairs on my legs.

When the server came by to check on us, we ordered another round of drinks.

“So tell us more about yourself, Tate,” Annie said.

“Tate told me once that he used to make screen-print designs but doesn’t have the room in his apartment anymore,” Sebastian said. “I want to hear more about that.”

“Well it can be messy because of the paint which funnels through a screen, and afterward,” I said, trying to explain it in simple terms. “You either need the sun or a bright light bulb to set the image onto the material.”

“Maybe Tate can use the back room of the shop,” Annie said, clapping her hands. “Our storage area has a sink and a table.”

Sebastian sputtered for a reply and I waved Annie off because that was presuming a lot, especially since Sebastian and I had only begun our friendship.

We talked randomly for the next hour and from Sebastian’s expression, it seemed as though he learned some new things about Annie and Karen as well. Sebastian was a hard man to read when it came to general likes and interests and I wondered just how much he did outside of the shop and charity work. Maybe coming to my show had been the first time he had allowed himself some fun.

After we said our goodbyes, I walked partway toward Sebastian’s apartment, planning to continue onto Sixth Avenue to get home. He lived in one of those quaint step-down units on 10
^th
Street that he mentioned had once belonged to his father. He teetered on his heels like he was debating inviting me in.

“Tate, you…I should...” he fumbled over the words, as if he had never welcomed somebody inside his home before. Or it had been a long time.

I saved him the trouble even though I was dying to spend more time with him.

“I’ve got an early morning and lots of orders to fill,” I said, backing away from the short black gate in front of the two steps that led to his doorway, painted a teal blue.

“Okay, I’ll just…” Sebastian suddenly stepped into my personal space, his large hand landing on my shoulder, the other on my waist. As his thumb brushed across my hipbone, the hairs on my arms prickled at the sensation. He paused momentarily before he pulled me into an embrace and I was immediately overcome with his warmth and size and smell—like fine worn leather, supple and graceful and familiar.

“Tate.” His soft lips scaled across my jaw to my ear and I held in my gasp, barely able to get my brain in any semblance of working order. “I hope you realize how incredible you are.”

When he let go of me and stepped away, I staggered back like I was drunk or in a dream. Fuck, could this man throw me off kilter. Before I could make heads or tails of exactly what he meant by that, he had his key in the door. “Good night.”