Run and Hide Pt. 03

Ace shuddered. "Point taken."

"Not a sports fan, then?" Paul asked, concerned.

"I've played," Ace said. "More into track and field, though. I did baseball and soccer for a while when I was a kid. I'll be able to follow along with the big boys, don't worry."

"So that's a yes?" Paul's face was filled with hope.

Ace sighed and took a deep breath. "That's a yes."

Paul's face filled with a big, stupid grin. He impulsively reached for Ace's hand across the table and squeezed – until his brain caught up with what he was doing. He pulled back sharply, and Ace bit out a sigh.

"One of these days, maybe you could actually bring yourself to touch a man in public," Ace said. "In a way that doesn't involve a manly punch."

Paul looked down. "I really hope so," he said softly.

They finished their drinks, and Paul threw down some bills to cover their tab and called out a farewell to John. As they both reached the door to leave, Paul hesitated for just a moment then reached out to hold the door open for Ace.

"See?" he said as he gestured for Ace to precede him. "Baby steps."

Chapter 10

On Thursday, Paul drove to Ace's house with a stomach threatening to rebel. He'd never been so nervous before a date.

Then again, when was the last time he'd gone on a proper date? High school? Maybe that one time freshman year in college? Always with a girl, and even then, he knew there wasn't really anything to be nervous about. And with the men in his life – the flings, the dark corner guys – it was never a date.

It's a baseball game, you moron. Your team, your game. Your turf. This should be a breeze.

Right. A breeze. A breeze to sit next to Ace in a crowd of people and not touch him the way he longed to. A breeze to not give in to his fear and act like an asshole straight guy around this man he wanted to impress.

Breezy.

He pulled up to Ace's crayon explosion of a house and sat in the car for a moment to gather his nerve.

"Baby steps," he muttered to himself.

He rang Ace's doorbell, but it wasn't Ace who answered it.

The redhead who appeared in the door looked familiar, but Paul couldn't quite place him.

This new guy fixed Paul with a shrewd, evaluating look. He didn't look especially happy to see him.

"You must be Paul," the redhead said.

"Yeah," Paul said, confused. "Who are you?"

"The watch dog. I'll go fetch your date." He left Paul standing on the front porch.

Watch dog? What the hell?

Ace arrived quickly after that, and Paul's confused frustration melted instantly. He gave Ace an appreciative, head-to-toe look and smiled.

"Hey," Ace grinned. "You've met Erik?"

"Sort of," Paul grunted.

"Well, Paul, Erik. Erik, Paul," Ace said quickly. "Thanks for your help, Erik. I'll call you later."

"Can't wait," Erik trilled.

Paul walked Ace to his car and he managed to wait until they had both slid into their seats before speaking. "So, who is Erik?" he asked tightly.

"My best friend," Ace said. "I mentioned him, I know I did." Paul relaxed some into his seat. "I needed reinforcements and an objective second opinion," Ace continued.

"On me? I thought the girl talk came after the date."

Ace slugged his arm and they both grinned.

"He looked familiar," Paul said.

"You probably caught a fleeting glimpse of him last week as you, um, left," Ace said.

"Ah." Paul was hit with a pang of guilt. "That explains the way he was looking at me."

"I imagine he's also a little jealous. He broke up with his boyfriend last year and it's been just the two of us since then."

The two of them?"So, you're – I mean, you were-"

"Friends," Ace finished. "Just friends. Good friends."

"And you never –" Paul gulped and started over. "I mean, you're both gay, both single. Why did you never get together?"

Ace shrugged. "Same reason a straight man can be friends with a woman without dating her. Sometimes you just need a friend more." He cut a look at Paul. "Don't you have any friends? Just friends – who aren't relatives?"

Paul squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

Silence reigned for a few empty minutes, and Paul's inexperience at talking to men became glaringly obvious to him. He was perfectly able to chat up a guy to lay down some innuendo, but apart from small talk, he was kind of hopeless.

Baby steps, McDonnell.

"So, tell me the story of your life," he said finally.

Ace blinked and turned to look at him. "Story of my life," he repeated flatly.

"We've got a forty-five minute drive ahead of us," Paul said. "Isn't this what people do on dates?"

"I don't know that my life has a story yet," Ace said.

"Well, give me the cast of characters, anyway. Maybe we can build a story out of that."

The slow smile Ace gave him warmed him through to his core. Paul wished he could turn to face him fully so he could watch this story in those deep blue eyes, but he had to do the grown-up thing and drive.

"Well, once upon a time," Ace began, his voice thick with that smile, "there was a little curly haired boy named Acelin who had a sweet big sister named Sonya. They lived in a magical village called Boulder in a land called Colorado, where hippies roamed free and herds of Subarus crowded the lanes."

Paul barked out a laugh. "That's a great beginning. I already like this story."

"I don't know if I can keep this up as a fairy tale," Ace laughed.

"No ogres or villains in your story?"

Ace's smile faded a little. "Oh, everyone has an ogre or two in their past," he said lightly.

Paul didn't want anything to scare away that happy look that Ace's face had a moment ago. "Skip the ogres, then. This is still chapter one. Ogres are more of a chapter four or five thing."

"I'll do an abridged version, then," Ace said. "Mom and Dad still live in Colorado. They're both technically retired, but Dad never thought to develop any hobbies, so afterThe New York Timescrossword puzzle is solved, he's got nothing to do all day. So he volunteers part time at a food pantry."

"That's cool," Paul said.

"Gives him something to bitch about," Ace said. "He's happiest when he's kvetching."

"I know the type," Paul grinned.

"Mom is a full-time grandma to Sonya's kids. She's busier now than she ever was when she worked in an office."

"Tell me about her kids."

"A girl and a boy. Jordan, who is eight and Walt, who is five."

"Jordan and Walt? Is Sonya a basketball fan or something?"

"Her husband is. Lucas. He's a good guy. They're all great, actually, Sonya's family. I miss them."

"Where are they?"

"Still in the magical village of Boulder. Sonya wanted me to move there when I told her I was leaving Atlanta."

Paul's gut clenched a little at the thought of never having met Ace. "Why didn't you?"

"Too close to the parents." Ace shook his head and looked out the window. "I love them and all, but proximity is not always that kind to us."

I hear that."When did you leave home then?"

"After college. Went to Baltimore for my first job. Moved to Atlanta for another job. Moved to Lawrence a little over a year ago."

"But not for a job offer this time," Paul said. "What made you leave Atlanta if it wasn't for a new company?"

He felt Ace stiffen in the seat next to him. Paul kept brushing against the landmines.

"None of my business?" Paul guessed quietly.

"Just a story for another time," Ace said. "Gotta leave something for the sequel."

"Fair enough."

"Your turn now," Ace said. "Tell me your fairy tale."

"Awww," Paul complained. "But I had so many clever follow-up questions."

"We'll save Q-and-A for later."

"Fine. Once upon a time-"

"That won't be necessary, doc," Ace laughed.

"Let's see, what do you already know?"

"You're a chiropractor. You have a brother. You take, um, interesting vacations."

"Right. Well, you're about caught up, then."

"Nice try, McDonnell. Where are you from?"

"We McDonnells are Kansas City natives, actually. Mom and Dad moved to South Carolina a few years ago because they got tired of all the ice storms and stuff."

"Why Lawrence then?"

"I went to KU for my undergrad. Went to New York for my M.D. and then my chiropractic studies. Came back to Lawrence because I missed the town."

"So you have an M.D. and a chiropractor degree? Why aren't you doing a general practice right now?"

"I like the chiropractic stuff better," Paul says. "I told you about my mom, right? And her bad back?"

Ace furrowed his brows. "Yeah, I think you might have. My memories of that night don't have a lot of words in them."

"Just the dirty ones," Paul murmured.

Ace looked like he was trying to swallow his own lips.

"Anyway," Paul continued, "I liked making a real difference in people's pain in a very specific way. And I think having the medical degree helps make me a better overall chiropractor."

Ace nodded. "So, that's your work. And I've met your family – well, the local ones. Any secret ex-boyfriends in your story?"

"None that could be fairly called a boyfriend," Paul admitted.How sad was that?He was thirty-six and could honestly say that he'd always been alone. "What about you?" he countered. "Any exes in your fairy tale?"

Ace's smile tightened on his face. "A few."

"Are they the ogres?"

Ace kept his eyes fixed on the passing landscape and didn't respond, which gave Paul his answer. He wished Ace would feel comfortable telling him about those ogres, but he knew how hypocritical it was of him to expect one-sided openness.

At the stadium, Paul was pleased to note Ace's shock at how close their parking passes allowed them to park. They were practically up against the building.

"I know," Paul said. "Holly is totally spoiling me with these tickets. I don't know how I'll ever live with the cheap seats again."

After a stop to buy Ace an overpriced Royals hat, they got settled in their seats a few rows behind home plate. There was a good crowd for a Thursday night, which the presence of the Red Sox surely helped to bring about, but it wasn't so crowded that they were flanked on all sides by other people.

Sitting so close to Ace, Paul felt his insecurities getting the better of him. He felt like he was wearing a blinking sign on his head screaming, "I'm on a date! With a dude!"

"You need to unclench," Ace said, breaking the tense silence.

"You can't tell if I'm clenching or not," Paul said through his teeth.

Ace turned toward him. "When you're here with Steven, do you worry that people are thinking you're on a date?"

Paul blinked at him. "No. I guess that never occurred to me."

"I'll give you some helpful tips here, from your personal gay sensei," Ace smiled. "At sporting events, you can assume most of the guys are here on man dates, not date-dates."

"Or with their brothers."

"Exactly. But when you see two men in a romantic, candlelit restaurant, that's more date-date territory."

"Gotcha." Paul relaxed a little bit and settled into the familiar sounds and rhythms of a baseball game. He was so grateful to Ace for reading his mind like that and knowing just what to say. The more he was around this guy, the more he wanted to be around him.

It was easy to get sucked in to the game, especially when you sat so close that you could plainly see the players' expressions. Ace wasn't exaggerating about his baseball knowledge; he coached the game just like every other guy there and jumped up with an excited roar whenever the Royals managed to move the ball out of the infield.

Midway through the game, Ace polished off his second beer and scraped the leftover cheese from the nacho tray. He looked over at Paul with big blue eyes as he slowly licked the cheese from his finger. Paul swallowed hard and fought the urge to lean in and find something of his own to lick.

"Paul, can I ask for something a little childish?" Ace asked, licking the last bit of stray cheese from his lips. Paul bit back a groan.

"Uh, sure," he grunted.

"I know it's silly, but I need something sweet to balance out this salt and beer," Ace said. "Can you get me a cotton candy?"

Paul blinked. "Cotton candy?"

"I can't go to a ball game without it. I told you it's childish." Ace smiled and looked down. "It's easier to score some cotton when I take Sonya's kids to a game. Kids are the best candy beard."

Paul smiled warmly. "Well, I think I'm secure enough in my masculinity to buy cotton candy without a child involved. Baby steps, right?"

He flagged down their waitress and asked her to rustle up a cotton candy. She looked at the two beautiful men sitting together and caught the blush fluttering across Ace's face. Her grin twinkled at the pair of them, and Paul could tell that she didn't think this was purely a man date.

Paul leaned over to Ace to let his breath brush over his ear. "I think she figured us out."

"I don't think cotton candy is one of the gay signifiers," Ace said.

"Well, it sure ain't a straight one," Paul said in a hick accent.

Their waitress reappeared with a large bag of pink fluff and gave Paul a sweet wink as she left.Yeah, she knows.And he was surprisingly okay with that. He was now up to three people in Kansas City knowing he was gay.Baby steps.

Ace dug into the bag of sugar with a happy grin. His strong tongue darted out to snatch pieces of the fluff, and Paul instantly felt himself harden at the sight.

God, cotton candy does this to me now? At this rate, nothing will be safe.

"Mmmmm," Ace moaned happily. "I know this is possibly the worst excuse for food in the world, but I just love it."

That triggered a small memory in Paul's head. "Didn't you once say I was your cotton candy?"

Ace paused with his tongue just touching his treat. Understanding washed over his face. "That's right," he said, snagging another piece off the paper stick. "Sweet and sinful." Ace slid his eyes to Paul.

"And bad for you?" Paul frowned.

"Maybe it wasn't a perfect metaphor," Ace said. "Except for the sinful part."

"I don't want to be bad for you," Paul said quietly.

Ace held his eyes for a long time; Paul wondered what he was reading in them. Wondered if he could tell how deeply he meant what he had said. Paul had been so practiced at hiding his true feelings for so long, he didn't know if he could let them rise to the surface on purpose.

"I can safely say you've graduated to hot dog, in the hierarchy of food metaphors," Ace said finally.

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Hot dog, huh? Processed mystery meat on a bun?"

"I was thinking more about the long, juicy piece of beef," Ace rumbled. "A source of delicious protein, you know. Much better for me than cotton candy."

"Wow," Paul said, his words strangled by the sudden bolt of lust that returned sharply. "Good metaphor."

Ace grinned wickedly and let his tongue tease another piece of cotton candy into his beautiful mouth.

Paul turned his eyes back to the game, trying to force the blood out of his thickening cock.

But Ace caught the bulge before he could force it back. "Yeah, that catcher does have a spectacular ass, doesn't he?" Ace whispered, leaning close.

That came out of nowhere. "Huh?"

"Baseball players always get to me, too," Ace said quietly, careful to keep his voice from carrying. "Those tight pants and great arms. Catchers have the best legs." He let his eyes linger on Paul's lap. "Or was it the lingering effects of a good metaphor?"

"Oh." Paul swallowed thickly and leaned over. "It was your tongue."

It was Ace's turn to be confused. "My tongue?"

"That's all it takes for me," Paul said low. "Your tongue on cotton candy made me hard."

Ace blinked slowly at him and curled his mouth into a grin. He pulled off another piece of his treat and let it melt on his tongue. Paul's eyes darkened to nearly black at the sight.

"I'll file that one away for later, then," Ace teased.

*****

By the last out of the ninth inning, the Royals were down five to two, which was exactly the ratio of beers consumed by Ace and Paul. The alcohol had made Ace all warm and mellow and a little giggly, as Paul was happy to discover. On the drive back to Lawrence, Ace let his hand idly rest on Paul's thigh as he told slightly slurred stories about some of his more unreasonable clients.

Paul's heart filled and tightened with desire – not just for this beautiful man's body this time, but for this moment. For the hum of tires along the road, for the darkness enveloping them outside the car, for the blue glow of his dashboard playing against Ace's skin.

It was innocuous, an everyday patch of driving at night, with familiar sensory notes. Nothing particularly special about it. But it was everything Paul wanted.

It wasn't just that he wanted Ace, that he ached for him. It wasn't just that he wanted to be his boyfriend.

He was in love with him.

And that terrified him. Because if he fucked up again, he would lose everything.

And if there was one thing Paul was good at, it was fucking up his personal life.

Ace had apparently exhausted his supply of stories, and he lazily stared out the passenger window with sleepy, glazed eyes.

Paul didn't want the night to end, but as he approached the city limits, he reluctantly turned his car toward Ace's side of town, causing Ace to startle awake.

"No, don't take me home yet," he drawled. "I want to see your place."

Paul fought back a flash of panic as one of his most important rules crumbled before him. He'd never brought a man home before.

"I don't want to go home yet," Ace fairly purred.

That purr made him weak. It also reminded him about his new policy of dismantling his long-standing rules.

"Okay, but if I get you within ten feet of my bed, I can't be held accountable for my subsequent actions."

Ace made a happy sound and settled back against the seat. "I was worried that might make you flee again," Ace said sleepily. "You know, being spotted with a man at your place."

Freaky little mind reader.

"Actually, I'm more worried that you'll start redecorating my boring condo." Paul wasn't entirely kidding. If Ace thought a home was a reflection of your personality, what was he going to think about that drab space?

He steered Ace up the walk and around the low shrubberies to his door. "Here it is," Paul swept his hand across the room in introduction. "My own little slice of, um, beige."

Ace's eyes took in every aspect of the room in a practiced fashion. If he was looking for personal touches, he was going to be looking a long time.

"There's not much of you here, is there?" Ace finally said.

"Well, I'm not here much," Paul said.

"It wouldn't take a lot of work to give this place some personality, you know," Ace said. He opened the linen closet door to sniff out some blankets and extra pillows.

While he would appreciate the decorating help, Paul didn't want Ace to get into that right now. He gently took hold of Ace's hands and led him to the sofa.

"Tell me about Atlanta, Ace," he said.

Ace blinked at the sudden segue. "What about it? The hot nightlife? The ridiculously long commutes? Coca-Cola? I can tell you all kinds of stories -"

"What happened in Atlanta?" Paul persisted. "Somebody hurt you, and I think I remind you of him."

Ace swallowed and lowered his eyes. "It's not that you look like him or anything." He looked up into Paul's eyes. "You look like something from a 1940s movie, like you aren't real. Like you're somebody people only dream about."

Paul felt the fire settle low in his belly at Ace's words. He wanted to pull Ace into his arms and share that fire between them, to spread it over their bodies and melt them together. But he needed to know about Atlanta.

"Come on," he rumbled, soft and low. "Who was he?"

Ace sighed and looked away. "He was Cameron. I'm surprised you haven't bumped into him in that deep closet you guys like to hang out in."