Accidentally Yours Page 5

  I must have flinched or taken a step back because his expression changed immediately from frustration to pleading.

  “No, no, I swear I’m not like this. Not usually. I’m not a violent guy, you’ve got to believe me.”

  “I do.”

  “I know you don’t—what?” He stopped

  “I believe you.”

  “You do?” He looked genuinely surprised.

  “I do. I think, maybe you weren’t mad at them at all. Maybe you just got triggered,” I looked around and took a step closer to him. “It hasn’t been that long since that thing happened to you.”

  He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.

  “You know, since the night we met. Maybe you just need some time to work it out. I get triggered all the time too. Some people get angry or sad when they run into a trigger. I tend to curl into a little ball, hyperventilate, and cry,” I chuckled at myself even though I wasn’t joking.

  “You might be right. They are long gone and look,” he showed me a shaking hand.

  “Oh, that’s probably just leftover adrenaline. That should go away in a few minutes,” I assured him.

  “Yeah,” he shoved his hand back into his pocket and looked off into space.

  “What did the cops say about your case?”

  “I didn’t call the cops,” he mumbled.

  “Why not?”

  “Look at me? They are going to take one look at me, ask me what I was doing meeting up with some random stranger at a bar, decide I got what I deserved and move on. They aren’t going to do anything about it. They’ll take a report and move on. You might not know this but nobody takes you seriously when you’re a big gay guy complaining that your date assaulted you.”

  I knew all too well what he was saying. I’d been there. I’d seen dozens of others, just like me, trying to get somebody to believe them when the system had already decided that our voices didn’t count anyway. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the memories that his words brought up. I remembered the doubtful faces of the social workers as I described what my foster parents were doing to me. I remembered feeling small and desperate knowing that I had to return to that place or risk going someplace that could be much worse. I remembered it all, all at once and it felt like being smothered in a hot blanket.

  “They don’t take foster care kids very seriously either, but you have to keep telling them or it will never stop.” I gasped for air and tried to hold it together.

  I felt nauseous and dizzy. Suddenly, walking around the nursery didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. Friendly sprang into action, licking my hands and pressing herself against me.

  “Are you okay?” Josh came close to me, holding his hands out like he’d catch me if I fell over. I reached out and grabbed his arm, taking deep breaths while I tried to regain my focus. I tried to keep thinking logically. Just because I was feeling the panic didn’t mean I had to give in to it.

  “I’m okay.” I could make it through this. I had Friendly. I had Josh. I wasn’t trapped. I could go home if I wanted to.

  “I think that’s enough for today. Why don’t I take you home?” He looked around, worried.

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “Ian! You’re seriously not okay. If you don’t want me to take you home, I can call you a Go-Car, but we are done here for today.”

  “Josh,” I looked him in the eyes and there’s so much I want to say, but none of it came out. “Tell the police. I’ll go with you. They might not do anything about it, but they might, one day.”

  He watched my mouth as I talk and I can almost feel it like a caress. I try to focus on that feeling, like a lifeline out of the chaos in my head. I don’t want him to stop, but he does. Of course, he does, because he’s not an asshole. He’s Josh. He’s my only real-life two-legged friend, and I am having a meltdown in a garden center. In an effort to avoid any further humiliation, I allowed him to call a cab and I rode home feeling deflated.

  Maybe I was pushing too hard. I liked being around Josh. I liked the fact that I was getting out of the house more, and actually meeting people. For a few minutes, I even got to be a hero in the eyes of a guy with a lot of challenges in life. But I fell apart at the most unpredictable moment. I fell apart when Josh needed me to be able to keep it together.

  I was back at home and in the middle of throwing all of the locks on my door when I realized something important that I’d missed.

  DID HE SAY, GAY?

  Josh is gay?

  Josh is GAY!

  Did that mean that Brian thought I was gay too? Maybe that’s why he stepped in to clarify things for Josh. I shook my head. That’s crazy. It’ not like Josh walks around with a giant “I’m gay” sign. But maybe he could tell. I wouldn’t be able to tell. I wouldn’t be able to tell until I caught him making out with Friendly’s groomer, who is definitely gay according to his husband.

  “You’re handling this well.”

  “Oh God, I hope he doesn’t think that that was the reason why I freaked out!”

  “Nah, you told him already, you have issues. It has nothing to do with him. You want to be his friend.”

  “But that’s a mighty big coincidence.”

  “If you’re that worried about it, just call him and explain yourself. He’ll listen to you. You saw his face when we left. He was so worried about you.”

  “Right, call and say what? Hey buddy, for the record, I’m not a bigot. I was just freaked out because your situation triggered me. Sorry for the confusion. Want to go play darts?”

  “Darts?”

  “I’m just saying, it’ll be super weird.”

  “If you don’t call him, he’ll definitely call to check on you. You can tell him then.”

  Friendly yawned, stretched, and settled on her dog bed in the sunshine. I watched her begin to doze off, feeling slightly uneasy. I knew that she was right. Whether I called him or he called me, I was going to have to confront what just happened. I honestly didn’t care if Josh was gay or not. I just liked being around him. I felt braver when I was close to him. I felt safe. I decided to get some advice before I talked to him and logged on to a group chat that my therapist had recommended for me. Most of us had some sort of social anxiety, and it was a good place to get tips on how to handle situations that can arise.

  I explained the whole situation in a long post and then left to make lunch. By the time I returned I already had several replies.

  BigRed747: You aren’t gay? I thought you were.

  Mrs. Meemers: I also thought he was gay. But regardless I think you need to make sure you clear this up.

  A_Suzuki/Shintaro: Are you sure you two aren’t dating? Maybe he thought you were dating and that’s why he reacted that way.

  BigRed747: You never said you weren’t gay. You just said you were surprised to know that he was. So, are you gay or not?

  The last question stopped me dead in my tracks, mostly because I didn’t have an answer. I’d spent most of my life trying to avoid anything having to do with sex. If being out in public was a challenge for me, getting close enough to anybody to have a real relationship was like walking blindfolded through a minefield. I’d had a few crushes in school, but nothing serious. I never really got into girls the way other guys did. I also never even considered being with guys, though by some tragic twist of fate I had more experience with men than women.

  In all of these years, I’d never stopped long enough to ask myself if I was straight or not. I was always so focused on being “normal” and “functional”. But didn’t normal, functional adults have consensual, sexual relationships?

  You’re getting ahead of yourself. Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he’s attracted to you. You’re his friend, and until he says otherwise, you shouldn’t worry about it.

  I was on the verge of googling “how do you know if you’re straight” when my phone rang. It was Josh, and it was showtime.

  “Hey, I’m just calling to check on you. Are you okay? You m
ade it home alright?”

  He sounded genuinely worried, which made me smile. I knew he’d be worried.

  “I’m better now. I’m home, safe, so don’t worry. And thank you again for calling a cab.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “Hey Josh, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

  “I’m really not ready to go to the cops about this, Ian. I know—”

  “No,” I cut him off. “That’s not it. I just wanted you to know that I heard you when you said you were gay. I didn’t freak out because of that. I’m not a bigot. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Oh, you heard that, did you?”

  “Yeah. And I wanted you to know that it doesn’t change anything about the way I feel about you,” I assured him.

  “That might be a problem,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you saying that changes everything about the way I feel about you.”

  “I-I—”

  “I think I like you a lot more now than I did before.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I wanted you to know that it doesn’t change anything about the way I feel about you.”

  I hadn’t expected that from him. I didn’t assume that he was a bigot, but most people took a moment to digest the news. I’d been out of the closet for so long that I’d become immune to other people’s shock or confusion. I’d expected him to say something like “I didn’t know” but instead he was worried that I’d assumed his panic attack was connected to my gayness.

  He couldn’t be any more adorable, and I was in deep trouble. I’d been hoping that I could keep my feelings to myself. I’d been hoping that after some time, like all ill-advised crushes on totally straight men, I’d move past this attraction. But here he was, fresh off of a personal crisis, trying to reassure me that he didn’t see me differently.

  “That might be a problem,” I said.

  “Why?” He sounded genuinely wounded.

  “Because you saying that changes everything about the way I feel about you.”

  “I-I—”

  “I think I like you a lot more now than I did before.” I sat down on the sofa and Shaolin jumped up on the seat beside me and put his head in my lap. “A lot more.”

  “Oh,” he chuckled with relief.

  “Is that okay with you?”

  “Umm, I uh...I don’t know. I’m not against it. I mean, I like hanging out with you. I like talking to you. I don’t want to stop being friends with you just because you might become attracted to me one day.”

  “You don’t understand, Ian. I am saying that I am attracted to you right now. I was going to just let it go, but you keep being so damned cute, I figured I should just be honest with you. I’m not going to chase you. I wouldn’t do that to anybody I consider a friend. But I wanted to let you know that I like you as more than just a friend, even if you don’t feel the same way about me.”

  He remained silent on the other end of the line but didn’t hang up. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. It was so hard to read him.

  “Ian?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I was loath to hang up but there wasn’t anything left for me to say so I said goodbye and hung up.

  A week passed and we didn’t speak. I was trying not to let it get to me. What did I really expect? I just told a man with serious demons and a fair number of trust issues that I had feelings for him. I was disappointed by his silence, but I knew better. Every once in a while, I wondered if maybe he were waiting for me to call him, but I was honestly too scared to attempt it. If I called and he avoided me, or worse, told me to kick rocks, I’d have to face the fact that I’d scared him off. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

  The worst part was that now that Shaolin was a part of my life, I couldn’t help but to think about Ian. It was like the worst breakup I ever had. There was nothing in my world that changed and yet everything was different. I took that dog everywhere with me, and he seemed to fit in perfectly. And yet, every time he put his head in my lap or fell asleep on the sofa I would think about Ian and wonder if he was okay. I was going fucking crazy missing that guy, and I had nobody to blame but myself.

  So, when my buddy Dean gave me a call and invited me out for a beer, I took him up on the offer.

  “So, you just adopted this dog?”

  “Yeah,” I took another pull off of the craft beer he’d insisted that I try. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I never saw you as a dog guy. I mean I know a lot of guys with dogs, but they’re usually one of those little fluffy things that they got stuck with because of their girlfriend. But this is like a whole dog,” he took a second look at the picture of Shaolin on my phone and shook his head. “So how are you holding up?”

  “Fine, I guess.”

  “Just fine?”

  “Better than I expected.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I had some help.” I pushed the beer away and leaned forward. “Can I level with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “I met somebody.”

  His eyebrows lifted and he cocked his head to the side with surprise.

  “I mean, it’s not like that. He’s the guy who helped me after that asshole...well, the guy who helped me out then. I met him and it turns out he’s got some serious issues of his own.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know the details but it’s pretty obvious that he has some sort of PTSD or severe anxiety due to some things that happened to him when he was younger.”

  “Whoa! Red flag. Getting into a relationship with a guy who you know is a fixer-upper is a bad idea. You need a partner, not a project.”

  “It’s not like that,” I grumbled. “He inspires me. I mean this guy is terrified of his own shadow, but he keeps pushing, you know. He isn’t bitter and entitled. He knows he’s afraid and he moves forward anyway. I figure if he can keep getting up and living his life despite his issues, I can handle one rough night.”

  “And two days in the hospital. Did the cops ever catch that asshole?”

  I frowned.

  “I didn’t call the cops. They took a statement at the hospital and then asked me to follow up with them, but I never did.”

  “Why the hell not?” Dean banged the table with his palm, making the beer bottles shimmy.

  “Come on, you know how this goes. They take my statement, tell me to be more careful about who I meet, and then nothing happens.”

  “Maybe, or maybe the next time this asshole tries to do this to somebody else they’ll catch him and then he can pay for both crimes. You know I just read about something like that. A rape victim managed to get a match between her rapist and another woman’s rapist from like a decade ago. He got charged for both rapes.”

  “After a decade?”

  “Yeah, and think about how many more women he raped because they were too scared or too ashamed to go to the cops?”

  “Or because the cops don’t really give a shit, especially about some big queer guy who got beat up by the date he met on a dating app.”

  Dean reached across and grabbed my hand.

  “Maybe, but you can’t just let it go like this. Just tell them what happened. Maybe they can help put this guy away. Maybe not, but you’ve got to do this for you. People like that shouldn’t get away with that.”

  I chuckled and shook my head.

  “You sound just like Ian.”

  “Well, good! He’s a smart man. You should listen to him.”

  “Yeah.”

  He was right. Ian was pretty smart, and probably not sure what to do next. I’d thrown him a curveball and now I was pouting because he didn’t know what to do with it. And instead of making the first move to clear up the mess, the way I knew he would, I was feeling sorry for myself.

  I picked up my phone and sent him a message. />
  I’m going to the cops. Will you come with me?

  I didn’t really expect him to respond.

  Send me the address. We’ll go together.

  I nearly spit my overpriced beer on the floor.

  “What?”

  I showed him the message.

  “So, you’re going to stop acting like a pussy and go to the police?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. I want to meet this guy and buy him a beer. If he can get you to change your mind and do the right thing, he’s my kind of guy.”

  “Mine too,” I said.

  I finished the last swallow of my beer and paid my tab. I replied to his message and he agreed to meet me in the morning. I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve; I couldn’t wait until morning.

  I woke up early in the morning and cleaned the house. I knew that he would probably avoid coming into the house, but on the off chance that he was brave enough to come inside, I wanted it to be as inviting as possible. I wanted it to look like a place that he would want to come back to. If I didn’t screw this up, maybe he would want to stay.

  Shaolin heard him coming up the sidewalk and ran to the door, alerting me to the presence of a guest. I jumped the gun and opened the door before he had a chance to knock.

  “Ian,” I breathed. He smiled as soon as he saw my face and stepped into my home without hesitation. He threw his arms around me before I even had a chance to close the door behind him.

  “I missed you,” he said softly.

  “I missed you, too.”

  “I’m glad that you decided to do this.”

  “Me too,” I hugged him back, tighter.

  “And thank you for asking me to go with you.”

  “I couldn’t think of anybody else; it had to be you.”

  Chapter Nine

  I’d waited for a day. And then another. And then another, until I was sure I’d let too many days pass without saying anything. Every day that passed without any contact felt a little harder than the day before. I wasn’t trying to avoid him; I just didn’t know where to go from here. I figured, he would know what the next step was, and if I just played it cool everything would work out fine. By the time I realized how wrong I was a week had already passed, and I wasn’t sure how to explain to him something that I wasn’t sure I understood myself. I was finally ready to admit defeat when his text message came.