A New Start with an Old Friend

He looks at my hand on his on the gear shift, "I'm not still learning anymore."

"I know. Am I bothering you?"

"Not even close."

We are far enough away from Wrigleyville at this point that traffic is normalizing. Normalizing. A weird word. Maybe I am finally normalizing. Whatever the fuck that means.

~~

Finally home, I close the door behind us, turn around and Mac is right there. Against me. His hands are on my hips and mine are in his hair; fingers entangled in his dark curls. He grabs ahold of the hem of my shirt, and in one smooth, skillful motion, pulls it right off.

He takes a step back and appraises me. I suddenly feel self-conscious but, based on the smile on his lips and the hunger in his eyes, it seems as though he likes what he sees. "I knew I'd find you shirtless in the apartment sooner or later."

I laugh, "Like with the socks that time, I don't think it counts if you're the one who took it off me."

"I'm a Utilitarian," he says with his eyes dancing all around me. "It's only the end result that counts. The 'whys' and 'hows' don't matter."

I go to remove his shirt too, but he stops me. "Give me just a minute here." He examines me head to toe. "You are one fine looking man."

I blush a deep red, "Stop it."

"It's true. Alexander, I'm not sure what you think other people see or what you just don't see in yourself, but you are...there are so many adjectives to pick from. Gorgeous, adorable, hot, stunning, alluring, beautiful, cute, incredible...I could go on."

"How about 'on fleek'?"

He laughs again, "Especially on fleek."

"I'd never spoken those words before. I just wanted to say that once."

"You have an irresistible runner's body. Remind me, why are we doing all this weight room shit every day?"

"Because I have no biceps and zero packs, remember? I was told one too many times that I was too skinny."

"Never by me." He puts his fingertips on my flat but ab-free stomach and I tremble from the touch. "You have biceps. And no one needs rock-hard abs. If you want a six pack, go for it. If there's something you want to change about yourself, then by all means, do it. But only do it for you. Not for anybody else. I only volunteered to be your personal trainer because it meant spending more time with you. You've gotta know, your fucking perfect the way you are."

He slides his hands around to my waist, his caramel fingers on my pale skin. I sizzle at the points of contact. He pulls me in up against him and our mouths meet again. Minutes go by. Except for the growth inside my pants, we don't move at all.

Eventually, we come up for air. Mac turns the bolt on the door and slides the chain in place.

He leads me to his bedroom where he spends the night proving to me that he meant every word he said.

~~

The next afternoon, I find myself feeling guilty for not having a job.

I've worked hard for 6 years and never took a vacation. I have plenty of money and Mac isn't charging me rent. I so deserve this time off right now, but I can't help perusing online job listings...just to see what's out there.

I sit on my bed with my legs stretched out and my laptop open. I'm scrolling through the results when Mac pops his head through the door. When our eyes connect, he smiles and I flush with a tingly warmth that is totally involuntary. He sits down at the foot of the bed, picks up my right foot and puts it in his lap. He starts a gentle massage.

He asks, "Do you mind some company?"

"As long as it's you."

His mindless, gentle massaging gradually intensifies. I'm...responding. Unexpectedly, my sock is off and my foot is his new project.

I'm suddenly concerned, "Mac, did I do something wrong?"

"What? No. Why?"

"When you 'punished' me the other night, you said that next time the sock would come off."

Mac laughs. "I'm not here to punish you." He eases up and settles into a mindless stroking.

"Go back to your search. I'll leave if you want me to."

I say, "No, stay," while I think: and don't stop what you're doing.

"Totally up to you, but if you want to read them out loud, I could be a second set of ears."

Now my left sock if off too. This foot, neglected to this point, is fresh and extra susceptible. Mac smiles as his attention causes involuntary jerks until it desensitizes.

He closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall while I slowly recite job titles.

After about ten minutes, there's a knock on the apartment door. I look a question at him and he shrugs. "It must be a neighbor, because the lobby buzzer didn't sound. I'll get it," he says, and he's suddenly gone.

It's so weird how different the room feels without Mac in it. It's not just his physical touch, as electric as that is. He brings an energy and leaves a void. I continue to peruse.

~~

I'm shocked when I recognize the voice at the door. It says to Mac, "Is Alex here?"

I spring off my bed and run to the door, "Bobby? What are you doing here?"

He flings himself at me and wraps me in a bearhug. "I have an aunt who lives in the city. I'm visiting her for a couple days. I needed to see you."

He backs up and looks down at my naked feet. "Where are your socks? You hate being barefoot."

Mac cocks an eyebrow at me.

I tell Mac, "This is Bobby."

Mac says, "That's been established."

"He was my next-door neighbor in Boston."

Bobby sticks his hand out to Mac. "Alex told me he would be staying with his best friend. If Alex considers you to be his best friend, then you must be a fantastic human being."

Mac smiles warmly and accepts Bobby's offered hand.

I say, "I still don't understand. Why couldn't you have called or texted or messaged or something?"

Bobby looks me in the eyes and says, "I know Boston wasn't really your home. I know you felt like it was time to leave. And I know we said our goodbyes, but there's something that I didn't say. Something that I have to say." He takes my hands, "I'm in love with you."

~~

I told Bobby to wait for me at the Starbucks across the street. I'll deal with him later. I have to talk to Mac first.

"You told me that you didn't leave anyone behind in Boston. No boyfriend...no friends even."

I'm next to Mac on his sofa as I pull my socks back on. "I know that seems like a lie right now given what just happened, but I swear, I meant every word I've said to you."

Mac fold his arms, "The truth is, you don't owe me anything. I invited you to stay here based on us being friends. You accepted my invitation based on us being friends. The events of the last couple days were unanticipated by either of us." His striking blue eyes glisten with pooling tears.

I put a hand on his forearm, "Okay, slow down. I haven't even told you about Bobby yet. I know I don't owe you anything, but I'm not sure he knows that he doesn't owe me anything."

"He's cute," Mac says.

"Is he? I hadn't noticed."

Mac scoffs. "Right. That's kind of not a matter of opinion. Bobby is a cute guy. Or kid. How old is he?"

"He's 25."

"Look, Alexander, I won't stand in your way. I'm your friend first, above all else. If your best future is with Bobby, you need to take it. It's right there across the street waiting for you." One tear escapes his left eye and trails down his cheek.

"Stop stopping me! Listen! Bobby is not and was never my boyfriend. Really, I never even thought of him as a friend at all. He's like my kid brother. He's the same age as my kid brother even. That's how I think of him. I'd never describe my brother as cute. He might be. I know his girlfriend thinks he is -- but I don't. He's just my brother and that's how I think of Bobby."

So, I tell Mac the story. Three years ago, when I was 25, Bobby had just turned 22 and had just graduated from college. He had an entry level job already lined up and had planned to continue living with his parents for at least a year while he saved his money acclimated to adulthood.

The problem came along when he decided to come out to his family. They had no interest in having their 22-year-old gay son in their lives or in their house. They kicked him out. With just his meager savings account and one suitcase of clothes, he was suddenly homeless. But he was employed, so he filled out a rental application and was approved for an apartment in my building -- the one next to mine. After couch-surfing with friends for a few nights, he moved in.

My work was crazy at the time; I was averaging 70-hour workweeks, but I met Bobby in the hallway during his first couple days. I invited him to have dinner with me and he accepted. He was a proud kid and he didn't tell me his story right away. I dragged and pulled it out of him.

His job was a great experience to start his career, but it was entry-level. He was barely making enough to cover rent, not to mention buy the clothes he needed or even food to eat. So, I looked after him. I helped him out. I bought him a couple suits and pairs of dress shoes. Whenever I was home, I invited him to eat with me. I bought him some dinners, I took him to a few movies. I helped him to figure out how to be a grownup. How to pay bills, set budgets and manage his finances.

I didn't have a ton of spare time, but most of it went to checking in on and helping Bobby. I placed a grocery order for delivery every week and I always ordered extra for him. I gave him my spare key and he was always welcome to over to my place and use my laptop, watch my tv...whatever. He was...is...a good kid. A sweet kid. What was I supposed to do? Let him flounder? Let him starve? Let him get evicted?

I helped him a lot in those first 18 months, but then he got a promotion and a raise and suddenly he was able to cover his expenses on his own. One day he brought me a document with a long list of shit and told me that at a rough estimate, he owed me $10,000 for the help I gave him. He wanted to make a plan for how to pay me back.

I laughed and told him that if he wanted to pay me back, all he had to do was tell his parents to fuck off and then go on to live his best life. Even though he was covering everything on his own at that point, it would have taken him 10 years to pay me back. I didn't need his money. He needed it to start saving for his future.

So, the second 18 months, he didn't need my financial support anymore, but we kept up with meals and the occasional movie. Again, I felt like his big brother. Actually, if I'm honest with myself, I feel kind of paternal toward him.

After I finish the story, Mac says, "I already knew you were one of the best people I knew, but...wow! You're amazing."

I wave off the compliment, "I just helped a little. Bobby is actually the strong, amazing one. I can't even imagine not having the love and support of my family. He persevered in the worst of circumstances."

Mac puts a hand on my shoulder, "I think you did a lot more than 'just help a little'. That amazing young man flew halfway across the country to tell you that. How can he not feel like he owes you something?"

I put both hands on Mac's shoulder and lock eyes with him. "Mac, it's you. You're the one. I want you. Bobby is a good guy who will make some guy really happy someday. But I'm not that guy. My heart's taken. And, I can't say this enough times, he's like family to me. Not a lover, not a friend. I feel like some weird fusion of the kid's uncle, father and brother. Let me go tie up this loose end."

~~

In Starbucks, drop into the seat across from Bobby and look into his damp, red eyes. "Hey, are you okay? What's going on?"

"Nothing's wrong. I know we said our goodbyes, but you're like gone. It just kind of hit me."

"Bobby, you haven't needed me for a long time now. People will come and go your whole life. I'm just one of those people. One day, you're gonna meet the right guy and be happier than you could ever imagine."

"And how do you know you're not that guy? While you were in my life, I never thought of you that way. You were just Alex. You were like my gay mentor. And you kind of saved my life."

"You're exaggerating. I-"

He cuts me off, "No! You did. But this is not a case of hero-worship. It took you leaving for me to realize how I feel about you. I'm in love with you." He leans in to kiss me.

~~

After leaving Starbucks, I look up to what I think is the sixth floor and what I think is Mac's balcony. From this distance and angle, I can't tell if he's out there. I cross the parking lot, feeling a little on display as I perform the humiliating walk of shame.

It's like the elevator knows. It's punishing me. It's purposely taking an excruciatingly long time to make its deliberate ascent before finally depositing me at my sixth-floor destination. Thankfully, the hall is quiet.

I open the door and look down. I see Mac's well-worn VANS, lonely and abandoned. I slip out of my own shoes and leave them to keep his company. Lined up next to his, his more road weary and a full size bigger, it's like they're protecting mine. Keeping them safe. Like he does with me.

I see that Mac is in fact on the balcony. I flip the bolt lock and slip the chain into place. There can be no audience for this. And no interruptions. I just have to do it. I grab two waters from the fridge and join Mac on the other side of the sliding glass door. "Hey there." I hand him a water and he smiles at me.

Mac said that if Bobby is who I was meant to be with, then that's the choice I'd have to make. He said he'd understand and he'd be happy for me. He said he wanted me to live my best life.

I sit in the chair next to Mac's and we each take a long pull on our waters. It's a warm late June, early summer afternoon. I could tell Mac anything right now and if he thought that I was okay and that I was happy, then he'd accept it. The fact of the matter is that I am happy. Happier than I ever thought I could be. Happier than I deserve to be. It's time to tell Mac.

The thing is, I'm human. I fuck up. Just like everybody else, I make mistakes. I am not immune to making the wrong decisions and doing the wrong things.

I'd never broken anyone's heart before now. At least not knowingly or intentionally. The look of devastation in his eyes was almost too much for me to take. I never wanted to be responsible for putting that look on someone else's face. I can never unsee that look or unsay those words.

And who the fuck am I? Bobby and Mac are both exemplary human beings, both deserving of way better than me. I find myself irrationally angry to even be in this position in the first place. I didn't ask to hurt anyone. I certainly didn't want to hurt anyone. Why should anyone give a shit about me? Who the fuck am I?

I am not the kind of person to find himself in the middle of a love triangle. Not me. And if I ever was, I would be the one left out in the cold, alone. Not the one in the middle of it all.

So, I broke his heart. Two weeks ago, I would never have imagined being in this situation. I had surprised myself with how much I'd changed in such a short time. I had to tell him that while I love him, I'm in love with someone else.

And now I finish telling Mac. I tell him how Bobby's kiss never landed. How I dodged it. How I heard his words and I saw his eyes and I broke his heart. How I told Bobby that there was someone else. Someone I was madly in love with. Someone who I think about night and day. Someone who I want to share forever with. Someone named Mac.

I twist in my chair so I'm facing him straight on, "We said a lot of stuff the other day after the Cubs game. It was all true and I know you don't need me to repeat any of it, so here's some new stuff. When I chose to room with you when I came back home, I hoped to reconnect with my friend. I had no idea that you'd bring me back to life and pull me out of the dull, dreary shitshow that my existence had become. I had no idea I'd fall in love with you -- you woke me up."

I touch his arm, "You told me before that I can tell you anything. Here it is. I want to do things -- everything...with you. I want to hang out with Jonah and Joe, with you. I want to go where I've never been before with you. I want to show you Boston. I want to go to my brother's one-day wedding with you. I want to kick your ass in tennis and get my ass kicked by you in every other sport known to man. I'm not trying to scare you off here. I probably sound like an insane lunatic, but I want to know that one day we can talk about our own wedding."

I nudge his toe with mine. "I know I've only been home a short time but really, I've known you for 17 years. I want to maybe someday buy a house with you. I want to talk with you about being fathers together. Adoption? Surrogacy? Fostering? Owning a dog? All of those? None of those? I want to know that anything's possible with you. I want to know that we can do whatever the fuck we want to do. That we can pick and choose our best life together. And right now, I want to tell you to take today off of work and come with me to Starved Rock. I want to make a day of it and explore the canyons with you."

It occurs to me that Mac hasn't spoken one single word yet. He has just watched and listened, silently from the moment I walked out onto this balcony.

I get up, take two steps to my right and sit down again. Right in his lap. If he tries to not smile, he fails miserably. I put my arms around him and put my lips right up to his ear. "Mac, you are not my second choice, my Plan B or my consolation prize. It's you. You're the one. You're who I want to talk about forever with."

I nibble his earlobe and he rewards me immediately by sprouting goosebumps everywhere. "I am irrationally, insanely, ridiculously, idiotically in love with you."

He finally speaks, "That was a beautiful speech. You said some very nice things. You want to know the truth?"

Do I? I stop breathing. Did I take too long? Did I say too much? How did I fuck this up? Maybe he's not this far in yet. Am I a crazed freak? If I tried a verbal response right now, I'm not sure what noise would escape me. I just gulp and nod with bulging eyes.

He clears his throat, "The truth is, when you came through that door and handed me this water, I was good. Don't get me wrong, I loved every word you said. I just didn't need any more than to look into your sparkling green eyes and know that you were home." He wraps his arms around me in reciprocation.

I squeeze him tighter.

Mac says, "You had shit you had to take care of. I get it. I understand and I trust you."

Right now, I kiss Mac long, slow and deep. I swirl my tongue along his and I feel his organ stiffen against my leg. I say, "This is pretty fucking perfect." I slip my hand down his torso and find my way under his shirt. He trembles as I grope around. Mac is ticklish! That's something to explore more later.

I'm still sitting in his lap and the chair under us creaks in protest. He says, smiling, "You know, we're basically sitting on a flimsy $10 piece of plastic."

I laugh, "And thanks to my personal trainer, I've gained five pounds of muscle."

One of his hands snakes its way under my shirt and he prods at my tummy, "Hmm, I'm not finding them here."

I quiver and giggle from his gentle, exploring touch. "Not there...I said it's all muscle."

"I see," he says, continuing his examination. "Just to be clear, you're my first choice too. My only choice."

I tighten my grip around him even more. I should have come home sooner. I stand up and lead him inside.

Once he has the sliding door closed, I spin him around and I sink to my knees. My hands work at his button and zipper and his shorts fall to the floor. I can tell through his boxers that he still has a partial from the kissing on the balcony. I slide those boxers away and his hardening manhood bobs in front of me keeping time with his pulse.

I don't touch him yet. I feel like a magician again, because using nothing more than eyes, I bring him to full erection. It is the biggest turn on in the world to know that not only did I do that to him, but it happened just from him knowing I was looking at him. His emotions for me generated a physical response.