An Unlikely Gentleman Ch. 05

Danielle's expression revealed that she suspected that something similar to my brother's experience had happened. I simply continued.

"I don't drink much, but he had invited a bunch of people I knew, so it would've been rude to say no, so I went, and it wasn't away from my apartment. I drank sparkling water. After a lot of pressure—just to shut them up—I did drink something with alcohol.

"As the night went by, I felt weird, you know. I've been drunk once or twice before, but never had I felt anything like that. It was strange. My body felt heavy and my mind felt split in two. There was this part of me that went on full alert, saying that there was something very, very wrong with the sensations I was feeling. The other part of me was all chilled, just telling myself to relax, that everything was ok, that nothing mattered much.

"We went back to my apartment, taking the 'party' there since I wasn't feeling good. Eventually, I told them to make themselves at home, that I was going to sleep, and I did. I went to bed feeling unreal sleepiness. I only slept for a little while before having this awesome dream of my girlfriend doing all these sexy things to me, and then I woke up. I hadn't locked my bedroom door."

Danielle's eyes went wide. She knew where this could end up, and I muttered with some evident anger in my voice, "Don't you dare feel sorry for me." My neighbor flinched when she heard my tone, but she just looked at me. I continued.

"One of the guys, the one who organized the whole thing, was there sucking me off. When I opened my eyes a bit more, I realized he was straddling me, to get me to fuck him. My mind was still split between the 'meh, don't give a damn, just don't care about the world' part and the rational one, buried by drugs. I asked him to stop. Instead of ordering him, it came out all polite: He told me to relax and lean back, that I would enjoy it. Part of me said, 'yeah, whatever, just go back to sleep,' the other one was now in full panic. You see, there is no drug to make you gay or straight, so I knew full well what was happening, and I could barely bring myself to care. But I did care.

"I asked him again. He was still going down on me, and I told him that if he didn't stop, I'd punch him. He didn't, so I pushed him away. He climbed the bed and tried to get me inside of him. I fought back, but I was very clumsy, he kept on trying to convince me while grabbing me and trying to do it. Somehow I managed to grab him by the neck and punched him. I don't know how many times since I didn't care. I told him to just go away and let me sleep. He ran away. My biggest concern was cleaning the blood that had fallen on the sheets and floor since I had hit him over and over. I didn't even notice, but it had been bad. I had hit him enough times to break his nose, and I continued punching him over and over after that since I didn't particularly care about being rape. I didn't particularly care enough to stop in time.

"When the next day came, it fully hit me. I told myself over and over that nothing had happened, you know? Turns out, I had hit him so hard that he had crawled out of my apartment and dialed 911 before falling unconscious. I don't know how many medical things he needed, nor do I care, although it's comforting to know he needed medical attention. I tried to convince myself that since he hadn't finished what he started, that it wasn't that bad, but it didn't work. I knew. I didn't sleep for nights. I didn't feel safe in my own apartment. I had to move out. I'm the guy that laughs at rape jokes because if I get affected, I will be the victim forever. It might not be the right thing for everyone, but it works for me. The thing that happened is that cheating or not, virgin or not, drunk or not, I didn't care as long as it was willing, I would never ever try to do something the girl doesn't want. So when Angelica pushed me back, I felt like a monster. Because I still dream of it every now and then. Nobody deserves that."

By the time my monologue was done, I was mad at Danielle. She pitied me, and I couldn't stand that.

"I said no," she limply muttered.

"Uh...sorry?"

"Jason asked me to marry him. I said no."

My treacherous mood lifted immediately, but I kept it corked. "What?"

"I said I couldn't do it."

Stupidly, as if I wanted her to change her mind, I asked, "Why?"

"We got in an argument again during dinner. His answer was to propose in the middle of the restaurant, to the applauses of everyone for him to bask in," she said sadly, and I winced. He proposed to amend an argument?

"But if you said no—"

"I said yes because it was in public. I wasn't about to humiliate him, but when we got out of the restaurant, I had to tell him that getting married wasn't about to patch up our relationship. That we had been seeing each other more out of being used to it rather than because we wanted to. Marriage isn't a problem solver. It's a good relationship booster...and he lost it. He called me names. Then he said that his friends were right, that I should be grateful of getting a marriage offer by someone like him—"

"What?"

"He apologized later, but... He said he needs to think, that we need some time apart, and he's going to try to see if we're doing this or not."

I hugged her because she was crying softly. This open-heart conversation had sparked some chaos inside of me, yet, I was thinking fast. I didn't know if that meant that Danielle and Jason were together or not, but what a masterful screw-up he had done. Unless...

"Danielle. I don't want you to hate me for this, but is there anyone really interested in Jason, or otherwise? Is this 'time' thing convenient for him to not be tied down for something else to happen?"

"I don't know?" Her tone definitely sounded like a question, and the tears in her eyes weren't stopping. "I think it could. After he said it wasn't my fault that I couldn't even seduce you, I—"

I grabbed her by the shoulders and Danielle got to hear my dangerous tone for the first time ever, low and calculating. "He said what? Danielle, that is unacceptable. You can't take shit like this from anyone. Even less from the guy who wants to marry you. I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

"I can't help feeling unwanted when he says things like that," she sniffled.

There was no good argument against that. The people that can hurt you are the ones whose opinion you care about, so getting this kind of treatment would of course leave some mark. An idea popped up in my mind and my rational brain kicked in right after that. No, Dante, stop that, don't you dare, fucker, don't you dare.

"Stop me whenever you feel like it," I told her, and my face inched closer to hers. Don't, just don't, Dante. Don't.

My eyelids slowly closed, and I brushed my lips against hers. The touch sent my body chemistry into an upward spiral. Danielle was unmoving, so I pressed harder and kissed her gently, pouring all of my frustration, my forbidden desire, and whatever the hell I felt for her into it. For a wonderful second, the world stopped existing. Then I noticed that Danielle was still not responding, and I opened my eyes. For a fraction of a second, she kissed me back and something inside of me just ignited. I deepened the kiss hungrily and she whimpered for me, but moisture touched my cheek and I pulled back. My pretty neighbor was almost trembling, a maelstrom of emotions taking her over. Another tear rolled down her cheek. I felt confused.

"He's wrong. You could seduce me if you wanted to. Hell, even if you didn't want to, you could simply ask me to—"

"Stop."

She should've slapped me. It would've hurt less. Danielle trembled but steeled herself in whatever decision she made, turned around, and carefully closed the door behind her. I found myself in the need of a body-breaking workout that would wipe all rational thought out of my mind.

And work out I did. The plan to fuck a random girl was the furthest thing from my mind. I tried so many different, intense exercises that I found myself stopping for breath, but I gave myself the minimum rest possible, pushing my body to the limit. I got "there" when I felt about to pass out from the exertion and the Zen moment where you're not thinking and yet it's all clear because you don't have to ponder about details since things make sense. I took an ice-cold shower and headed for the store to buy something to restore my energy and whatever crap could get my thoughts away from my stupidity. Of all the possible seduction scenarios, being an idiot was never an option, and yet, that's the one I had apparently chosen. My phone rang.

"Hun, I gotta talk to you. Something happened." Pan was slightly worried, at least his tone seemed that way, but since Pan was the king of lack of expression, that meant something was definitely not right. Awesome. My neighbor gets proposed to, rejects it, and I fuck up. Then my friend is troubled. What else can happen now?

"Sure thing. Wanna meet up today?"

"Yes. Right now? I'll just skip the workout." Shit, Pan not working out?

"You tell me when and where."

"Nine, at the Propeller," he said, mentioning the bar where my brother's ex-band played when he used to live in the city.

"See you there, hun."

At seven thirty, I was nearing the bar. Not only did he want a familiar space, he was skipping a workout to talk to me. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. At five to nine, I was on a stool checking out the patrons, the first band of the night tuning their equipment to start playing on short notice. Four girls were checking me out. Apparently, they were trying to get one of their friends to muster up the courage to talk to me, but then Pan came in wearing something typical for him, random clothing that covered up his frame that would've been the envy of every guy there, had it been displayed. His curly hair bounced as he sharply looked around until he found me. He approached with no expression on his face. The foursome eyeing me seemed to be debating whether he was my partner or a friend judging by their appraising glances. A waiter came over and asked for our orders.

"Two beers and some onion rings," Pan muttered.

"Corona, Heineken, Budwe—"

"Beers. And onion rings."

"Pan, you're creeping me out. Not working out, drinking beer, and asking for onion rings?"

He just stared at me and let some time go by. I knew better than to hurry him. As usual, the beers were uncapped right before us. Pan took the bottle cap and started to play with it, moving it slowly, his stare lost deep within its details. For those who aren't familiar with men talking about feelings, we don't do so over a cup of coffee and looking into each other's eyes. There has to be a distraction: videogame, food—a rock band about to play—or something, so we can bravely pretend we're not talking about feelings.

"I think I cheated on Maria."

"Oh."

"Does it count as cheating if I didn't know it was her?"

"I... Well, I don't know what to say—"

"If there's an authority on this, it's you," Pan said, not looking at me nor meaning offense. "Galahad went full man-slut after Yuliya broke him. You're the one with the moral compass here."

Not anymore. "Hun, cheating isn't a light bulb that either's on or off. There's factors that have to be taken into account. Did you do it willingly?"

"Yes. Maybe? I don't know."

"Were you sober?"

"Yes."

"Uh, well, then how come you didn't know it was her?"

"It was dark. I mean, long story short, I was supposed to see Maria in this place, but the girl in there wasn't her. I didn't look at her. I didn't ask, I— I thought it was Maria until I went back out. Maria was just getting to the place we were supposed to meet."

"Shit. Do you think the other girl set you up?"

"I don't know. And I think I should tell Maria. She deserves to know. She's special to me," he admitted. In Pan speech, 'special' meant something akin to 'I care a whole fucking lot.' The awkward silence was thankfully drowned out by a "Karma Police" cover that was nothing short of terrible; it was as if the band tried to convince Radiohead to play it again in a concert to set things right. Eventually, I continued the conversation, toying with an onion ring.

"Wow. This isn't something normal. Pan, you could lose her if you don't handle this correctly, so I'm not saying that you should lie. I'm saying that you should think very carefully how you're going to present this. Coming out clear is the best option. Otherwise, it's going to be seen as malicious, if it comes to light. I might know about cheating, but asking me about morals isn't the best thing you can do."

"That's why I do it."

"Then say it. Whoever she was, she was the one setting you up."

"It's Susan."

"Whoa. The Susan Ralph wants to have sex with?"

"The same."

"I thought you guys were friends and... Well."

"Yes. Ralph, Maria, Susan, and I have been only getting along for a little while now, so I don't know how or why."

"If you're serious, Maria deserves to know."

"Fuck."

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy. I'd have my doubts too, and it's a good sign. After all, you do care about what she thinks."

"This is so fucked up."

"You got that right, hun."

The magic of the Unlikely Gentlemen communication. We knew the conversation was over and stood up, hugged each other, and left a few bills, leaving both the beers and the onion rings without being even partially consumed. We weren't about to increase our intake of calories if we weren't going to burn them properly. He left first, then I walked out looking straight into the group of girls. They had thought about it too much. They lost their chance.

***

Saturday was a day for me to think long and hard. I wondered at random stuff during the morning, I fathomed about relationships as I worked out, I reminisced about my situation as it became later, and I shopped around for healthy snacks. Returning to my apartment, I hummed absently to myself and I reached my door.

**"Floating in the darkness..." the voice oozed out of the other apartment, with a flowing piano melody right on cue. My neighbor was playing a song she had told me about, one I should learn for harp. And I did, after her comment. TVXQ's Bolero.

To this day, I don't know if she did it because somewhere deep inside she realized what she was doing. The song called to me, and I went inside my apartment, dropping whatever random crap I was carrying from the store. I took my harp and checked that it was in tune with the song since it had a few flat notes. Only a minor adjustment was necessary.

I had friends that felt music in a way that surpassed the average person. Gabriel Verdin came to mind. Whoever plays an instrument will know the intensity and the otherworldly mental state of playing a song you like and with which you feel connected.

Impatiently, I stood outside her door to join her on a specific mark, waiting for the whole "fly away, fly away" part of the song to end. I'd do my attempt right after that, when it all seems to stop, only for the voices to start overlapping each other. I steadied my harp with the thali on my shoulder. The section about to start needed to be sung by at least two people for full effect, and the lyrics felt too right. The tone with which she had been singing was longing. She was singing it to herself, I could tell. An encouraging song, sad, but with hope. After she sang "fly forever, yeah," the notes came to a stop, and her voice rose.

"...and forever." It was a lament, but she held the note, barely playing the few chords needed.

"I will continue to shine on you," I answered through the door, not striking a single string on Aoide—my harp.

There was a sudden silence and my heart almost sank. For nothing, since the pause was more of a hesitation, and less than half a second, she continued.

"I'll be watching over you protectively..." The notes from her piano began to feel stronger. The world started to fade away, and it became a blurry experience where only our feelings and music mattered. I couldn't see her, yet she was closer to me than anyone had ever been.

"For that beloved future that should be..." My voice mingled with hers, and this time the tempo didn't fail. I hadn't noticed that I was in a state of strange arousal as if I was calling to her in a way that defied the typical communication.

"Wherever you go..." Her playing was more decisive, her performance filling voids that I didn't know existed within me.

"I will continue to hope..." I sang to her. For her. She sang the lyrics for herself, yet, her voice was directed to me. She was singing to me and with me. My hands were waiting for my cue.

"And I will protect you..." Danielle's tone went to the high note, and I joined on the simultaneous lower one, striking the harp right before the ending chorus was sung by her. "Within the passion, the radiance and misery, let the sparkling bolero be heard; for you should know you're not alone in this, keep on flying for as long as you live."

I played some chords and some parts of the melody, and she did the same. We had never practiced the song together, which meant we sometimes played the exact same note. For some others, I was her background instrument. I sang the base of the chorus while she went on with the ad-libs over me.

The final verse came from her. "The place where you belong is right here". Then it was all instrumental, and we played in silent intensity for a moment that stepped away from the rules of time.

Suddenly, the song was over.

My existence was still foggy when the door opened. I believe someone was clapping to our performance. I hate the fact that I can't remember everything perfectly; it was as if I were falling in and out of conscience every now and then. We were staring at each other, breathing heavily, and we didn't need words. The world went dark.

And when it came back, I was kissing her furiously, but not roughly, with intensity. The world faded out again.

When it faded back in, her hands were all over me, and I wasn't wearing a shirt. Her skin felt warm, soft, and silky, her scent woven with the rest of the fragrance she had enveloping me. Danielle's mouth traveled down to my neck, just like we had experienced before. Her lips brushed against my collarbone, and I vaguely remember panting before the world blacked out again.

We were in another room, her hands were flanking my face, pulling me towards her. Somehow, we were down to our underwear. Her dark eyes looked straight into mine when I unsnapped the bra and looked at her again, taking a single step back to admire her. She was gorgeous beyond the words I was ever taught while learning English. She extended her hand towards me in a beckoning call that got her answer immediately, our lips transmitting between themselves what our voices wouldn't say. She whispered something in my ear and the sensations were overwhelming again.

When I came back to my senses, she was below me, her mouth slightly ajar, with the look of anticipation that comes right before bodies are joined in the most intimate way. Her hand was wrapping my hardness and guiding it towards her entrance.

The head of my cock pressed against her moist lips and they needily gave way. Her breath was stolen as I pressed harder and harder, her body accepting more of my flesh inside. We hadn't looked away from each other's eyes. Her mouth opened slightly wider as inch after inch of me disappeared inside her, the forbidden feeling of flesh against flesh devouring us, my eyes claiming her as much as I was taking her physically. Everything but her became nonexistent. Danielle's warm, defenseless wetness enveloped me hungrily, and I still remember every fraction of an inch of her innermost secrets.