“So we danced but always in private. I'd go to his competitions and watch him with his female partners and hate them. I wanted to be them. I wanted to be the one dancing with him. I wanted to be the one to win with him. And that was how it started.”
“How what started?” Ed asked when Laurie let his pause go on a little too long.
Laurie swallowed a lump in his throat before pressing on. “That was how I convinced him that I
should
be his partner. I told him we should both come out. I told him we were so good that it wouldn't matter. I told him people might whisper, but in the end it wouldn't matter because we would be so amazing. I told him the two of us would take over the international dancing world the same way I'd taken over the stage. And I convinced him. We wouldn't go to a same-sex competition. We would enter into the formal competitions for everyone. The official organization. We entered as a pair, listing me as Laurie Parker, not Laurence, which was how I was always billed on stage. People assumed I was female, all the way until I stepped out with Paul on the floor.” Memory washed over Laurie, leaving him feeling cold and hollow.
“Did it work?” Ed prompted, sounding hopeful.
“No.” Laurie fixed his gaze on the road again. “We danced our first dance, and after that, they kicked us out of the competition. It was a huge scandal for both of us, but it was especially bad for Paul. It made people laugh at me, but it killed his career completely and nearly destroyed him psychologically as well.” He ran his hand over his thigh, feeling sad and uncomfortable. “He's doing all right now, relatively. A former mutual friend was kind enough to let me know last year. But he won't compete again. And it's all my fault.”
The last confession hurt so much it made Laurie's vision blur, and he slowed the car a little as he blinked and tried to recover. But then he felt Ed's hand on his.
Ed, though still very drunk, looked with amazing sobriety into Laurie's eyes. “It's not your fault.”
Laurie turned back to the road, trying to pull his hand away. “It is. I pushed him. He didn't want to do it, but I pushed him—”
“Then he should have said no,” Ed said, interrupting him. “He wanted to do it too. It wasn't your fault. It just happened.” He pointed in the general direction of his neck. “Just like this isn't my fault. Or the guy who landed on me. It just happened.”
Laurie tried to open his mouth to argue, but it wouldn't work. His vision blurred again, and he blinked furiously. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I'm being ridiculous.”
Ed's hand tightened on Laurie's. “No. You're not ridiculous. Not at all.”
Laurie squeezed back, and they held hands all the way off the interstate and down the street, all the way into the parking garage beneath his condo, until Laurie absolutely had to take his hand back to navigate into his space. He could feel Ed looking at him, though, could feel the intensity of his gaze, and the car began to shrink around him. Laurie didn't dare turn and look at him, because he knew somehow that it would be over if he did. What “it” was he couldn't yet determine. But he did know he wasn't ready for it.
When Ed reached for him again, he quickly opened the car door and escaped.
Liam was walking up the ramp toward him; he'd found the visitor parking, and by some miracle he'd managed to score a spot. He tossed Laurie Ed's keys. “You want help getting him upstairs?”
For a second, Laurie wanted to insist Liam take him home. But he shook his head. “No. I'll be fine.”
“I'm gonna go catch a cab, then,” he said and tossed Laurie a salute. “Best of luck. I hope I see you again.” He leaned over and shouted toward the car. “Remember, Maurer, you promised to be good!” Liam laughed, and when Laurie turned to see why, he saw Ed's hand above the roof of the car, middle finger raised and aimed in Liam's direction.
“Good night,” Liam called, and then he was gone.
Laurie walked back up to the car, feeling strangely out of body. He told himself it was his confession, but he knew it was more than that. He came around the rear bumper of his car, came all the way up beside Ed's door, which was cracked open and had Ed's foot sticking out of it. Then he opened the door and looked down at the man he'd agreed to host for the evening, the man whose shirt was unbuttoned three buttons down, who was swaying in his seat, whose dark hair was a mess, whose beard was rough and visible against his flushed cheeks—whose dark eyes were looking up at Laurie with bleary but clearly sensual promise.
It wasn't his confession making Laurie feel light-headed. It was Ed.
He managed to get him out of the car without incident, and he even got them into the elevator just fine. Down the hall was tricky because Ed had a penchant for navigating them into a wall, but Laurie got them eventually to his door and propped Ed against the frame as he fumbled with his key. But when he closed the door and turned around and saw Ed standing there in his entryway, filling the space, smiling his silly, drunken Ed grin, Laurie faltered.
Ed's face fell. “I'm sorry,” he said.
“For what?” Laurie asked.
Ed smiled again, but this smile was a grim one, and he gestured unhappily to himself. “For this. For being drunk. For being a problem. For you having to babysit me.” He glanced at Laurie, looking sad. “Sorry you have to settle for a partner like me now instead of someone who made you feel like you were home.”
Laurie felt dizzy. He knew he should tell Ed he'd misheard, that it was partner dancing, not Paul, that made him feel that way. That actually he and Paul had, he knew in hindsight, hadn't worked as well as they could have on the floor, let alone romantically. But he couldn't say anything about that, not now, not with Ed standing in his hallway, filling it. Ed, smelling like beer. Ed, who had held his hand and told him the past wasn't his fault. Ed, who drove him crazy, but who, he realized when he was with him, never let him feel alone.
As he stood there staring, letting all those thoughts swirl around him, he decided to stop fooling himself and admit, at least to himself, the real reason he'd been so eager to take Ed home.
“Laurie?” Ed said, uncertain.
But Laurie still didn't know what to say. So he stepped forward, pushed Ed back against the closet door, and kissed him.
Chapter Seven
sacada: a displacement, to move your partner's leg out of the way gently with your own.
Ed woke to sunlight streaming through a strange window onto the strange bed where he lay naked. The bed beneath him was soft, but it was little comfort, because Ed felt like complete crap. His head was pounding, his mouth tasted like dog shit, and he had to piss so bad his teeth were floating.
Beside him, someone stirred in sleep.
Ed shut his eyes and said a silent, desperate prayer. Then he told his bladder to shut the fuck up, and he did his best to assess. He began by taking a deep breath.
He let it out with relief. He'd smelled man. Women smelled soft and fresh. Women smelled vaguely sweet. And women's bedrooms tended to smell of hairspray and fabric softener and—well, women. Men, even the fussy ones, smelled muskier. Sharper. An edge of something spicy. Savory. Yummy, as far as Ed was concerned.
This was a man smell. This was a man's room. Which meant he'd gone home with a man. Thank fucking God.
Ed then focused his attention with some trepidation on his ass.
It felt fine. Bit of gas, maybe, but mostly his backside felt just like a plain old ass. Nobody had fucked him, or if they had, they weren't anybody to write home about. But probably nothing had happened. So no condomless orgies. Ed thanked God again. And then he drew another breath, gathered his courage, and turned to open his eyes and start trying to ID the stranger he had fucked.
But when he saw who was there, he nearly pissed the bed. Because the man lying next to him was not a stranger. It was Laurie.
Blinking didn't change it either. It seriously was Laurie Parker lying—also naked—beside Ed in the bed, in the very nice, high thread count pristine white sheets. Laurie's dark blond hair was beautifully mussed over his pillow, and he was asleep, so his features were soft and relaxed, making him look exquisitely beautiful. Pretty. Laurie was handsome, yes, but he looked pretty now, like a china statue. His cheeks were pale but stained pink, and his lips were just flush enough to draw attention to them. Relaxed. He looked so relaxed and at peace, lying there.
I am lying in bed with Laurie. Naked. In bed. With Laurie.
Ed blinked. What the hell? What the
hell?
Laurie—naked.
With him.
Laurie had gotten naked with him.
I fucked Laurie
. Heat diffused through Ed.
And then the cold, horrible reality of it hit Ed like a defensive tackle.
I fucked Laurie, and I don't remember doing it.
The thought drew a strangled, anguished sound out of him, and the noise woke Laurie, and then Ed was staring down, horrified and openmouthed, as beautiful, gorgeous, fucking lick-me-pretty Laurie looked up at him blearily and smiled. And then woke up enough to read Ed's expression, and he tried to withdraw.
Ed's hand shot out and stopped him, gripping his shoulder. “Laurie?”
Laurie lifted his chin. “Yes?”
Ed reeled. “Laurie?” He felt like the world was sliding out from beneath him. It had to be a mistake. How could he fuck Laurie and not know? How did they go from polite Laurie to naked Laurie? “Laurie—we—Did we—You aren't—I am—” He shook his head and dug his fingers into Laurie's shoulder. “
Laurie
?”
Laurie reached up, disengaged Ed's grip on his shoulder, tugging the sheet up to the top of his armpits as he lay back on his pillow. “Yes?”
This posture sent off warning bells for Ed, but he was having a hard enough time just sussing out his situation, let alone finessing it. “Laurie—did we? You and me? Did we—” God! He couldn't say it.
“Have sex?” Laurie supplied for him patiently.
Ed nodded. He felt like he was steeling himself for the answer, but he couldn't tell which answer he was hoping for.
Laurie looked like he were considering. Finally, he shrugged. “It depends on your definition.”
Ed shut his eyes and ran a hand over his face. “What—what did we do?”
“Nothing that warrants the kind of horror you seem to be experiencing,” Laurie replied. His tone was sharp. And clipped. And pissed.
Ed clutched his hand to his head. “The last thing I remember is being at work! How—
how
? How did I get from—and you—and—”
I didn't even know you liked me!
He looked at Laurie's naked chest, thought of his naked body beneath the sheet, of how he'd seen it and possibly explored it
and didn't remember.
Ed groaned. “I'm such a stupid fucker.” He drew the blanket up, all the way over his head to hide it in his misery.
Then he realized what else was under the blanket and quickly opened his eyes.
Laurie realized too and rolled to the side, pinning part of the sheet beneath his body and effectively shrouding himself from Ed's view. Annoyed, Ed came back out from the covers and glared at Laurie. But Laurie glared right back.
“You're welcome, by the way, for taking you home and keeping you from killing yourself in some drunken fit. And for cleaning up the bathroom floor, and putting up with your pawing at the bar—”
“We were at a bar?” Flashes of memory came back, and Ed sat up. “Matt's! We were at Matt's! We—”
The act of sitting bolt upright with a hangover caught up with him. He groaned and sank weakly back to his pillow again.
“Yes. I came to Matt's after you didn't come to class, and Vicky called me frantic because you were either drunk or hurt or maybe both, and you were upset and asking for me.”
Ed frowned, digesting this. It sounded vaguely familiar or at least plausible. “What happened to me?”
“Nothing. I called you, you made no sense whatsoever, and your friend Liam told me how to get to where you were. I sped all the way over, worried sick.”
Ed turned to him, surprised. And touched. “You were worried about me?”
“Yes, because I'm an idiot.” Laurie's cheeks were flushed now. “Because there you were, not hurt, just sloshed with your football buddies.”
This, now—this
felt
familiar. “Yeah. I sort of remember.” Ed beamed. “Yes! I remember you showing up! I do! I remember!” He deflated again. “And that's it. Just your face, you sitting next to me at the table.”
You looked worried.
“You made me eat a greasy hamburger with cheese inside it. You wouldn't let me leave, and so when Liam said someone had to sit with you to make sure you were okay, I volunteered.” He flattened his lips, looking disgusted.
Ed wasn't disgusted. He was shocked. And touched. “You did all that for me?”
“Yes,” Laurie snapped.
Why
? But Ed knew better than to say that out loud. So he just looked up at Laurie and said, “Thank you.”
Laurie snorted and rolled onto his back.
Ed rolled to his side and reached for him. When Laurie lifted a hand to block the touch, Ed captured his hand instead. “So you took me home. And we had sex,” he prompted. “Of sorts.”
“Regretfully, yes,” Laurie admitted.
Ed laced his fingers with Laurie's. “What sort of sex?” When Laurie didn't answer, Ed slid his thumb down the back of Laurie's hand, stroking encouragingly. “Since you're giving it restrictions, I'm assuming there was no penetration?”
Now Laurie looked really pissed. “You think I'd let you fuck me when you were so drunk you don't remember what even happened?”
“You might have fucked me,” Ed pointed out.
“I considered it, but then you started vomiting, and the urge passed.”
Laurie delivered the line so drily that Ed couldn't tell if that was just a barb or if he'd really almost fucked him. But the thought of being that close to being
with
Laurie, with Laurie all the way, pierced Ed in a yearning ache, and he went still. His bladder was starting to scream at him, its insistence that he urinate now exquisitely intense, but Ed shoved the need back down and focused on Laurie.