“Nick, please hear me out. If you still want to go, I’ll make sure you get home safely.”
I only had a few absolute rules for dating. Trust was at the top of the list. My brain said tell him to fuck off, but my heart wanted to give him a chance to explain. Emotions won the fight. “Go on.”
“I don’t want to have secrets, but there are things about me and my family I can’t tell you. They don’t change how I feel about you. I’m telling you this because when I’m allowed to share everything with you, I don’t want you to think I’ve been lying to you.”
Did he really think his admission made it better? Lying to me or hiding things both destroyed trust. So why did I still want himso much. “I don’t… I have no idea how to respond. If there are things you can’t tell me, why should I trust you?”
“I can’t give you a good reason, other than when I finally tell you, you’ll understand.”
It was the least convincing explanation for lying to me I’d ever heard. “That’s not enough, Henry. Why can’t you tell me?”
“The simplest answer is we haven’t been together long enough. If I told everyone I went on a date with, it wouldn’t be a secret.”
It was logical, but it still made me angry. He couldn’t trustme?Like I was the one keeping secrets. “Then why even date me?”
I understood how chicken and the egg that question was, but it was valid.
“Nick, I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s not…. Why date you? Because I really like you. You’re the first person I’ve told I’m hiding something, because you’re the first person I’m sure I’ll tell everything. This is the best I can do, and I’m hoping it’s enough for you to give us a chance.”
I appreciated Henry’s admission, but he couldn’t smooth over the lack of trust by saying he’ll probably tell me one day. My next move was easy; get up and go home alone. Except I believed him.
I couldn’t explain it, but on some weird, intangible level, Iknewhe’d been honest. I trusted Henry like no one before. It scared me how quickly that’d happened. “Okay.”
Something flickered across Henry’s face. “Okay, you’ll give us a chance?”
Henry held my gaze and I saw the anxious need in his eyes. The huge risk he’d taken weighed on him. If I were honest with myself, I’d have admitted I didn’t have enough experience to know if he’d been sincere or if he was playing me. I didn’t always catch on fast,
This felt different. We had a connection I’d never felt before and I didn’t want to wake up in the future with regrets. I could always leave if I found out I was wrong.
I mentally snorted at how easily I convinced myself I could quit Henry on a dime. Leaving would be hard, but I was going into this with eyes wide open.
“Yes, Henry. I respect you for telling me what you could, even if I’m a bit uneasy. I can’t promise we’ll work out, but I want to give us a shot.”
The spark was back.Henrywas back. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. This is what had weighed on him. Hopefully he wasn’t playing me.
Walking back to the B&B, I was more than a little buzzed. After we cleared the air and tried to backtrack to when we were good, I might have relied on the wine to calm me. It didn’t work. Anyone who tells you alcohol is calming is lying. Helps me forget, loosens my inhibition, sure. Gets me to chill? Not even close.
I’m not a happy, carefree, life of the party drunk. I brood until I blurt. Keeping my sexuality from my family meant I needed to stay in control so I didn’t slip up. I never drank when I was around them. Until I did.
By senior year in college, I’d spent more weekends and holidays with Trevor’s family than mine. I dreaded going home, but Mom asked me to come that year. She probably just wanted a friendly face and someone to help, but I couldn’t say no to her.
To ‘help’ survive the day, I brought wine, and then drank too much. After my brother made yet another comment about how the faggots were ruining the world, I fired back before Icould think. Those next few words cost me my family. Mom almost defended me, but Dad told her shut up, and she cowered from her abusive husband. I knew her inability to stand up for anyone, even herself, was a symptom of the abuse, but I kept waiting for something. She didn’t say another word.
I grabbed a few personal things from my room, called an Uber and never went back.
Sober, I never felt sorry for myself. My logical side reminded me they were a shitty family, and I really was better off without them. Drunk, the loss of them dragged me down. My emotional side remembered the few good times and all the nice things Mom did for me when no one could find out.
I pretended to include her in my, ‘I have no use for my family’ facade, but I still loved her. If I ever had the chance, I wanted to save her from her living hell. It was a pipe dream and knowing I’d probably never be able to save her only made it worse.
The initial burst of alcohol induced happy me, quickly devolved into the quiet, somber version. Sitting with Henry I couldn’t stop the logic versus emotions war that raged inside me. My heart believed him, but my brain argued I was just desperate for someone to love me. Neither side was winning, so my hormones decided for me.
I wanted Henry to fuck the doubts out of me. There was no downside to great sex. Even if we didn’t work out, the sex will still have been good.
It was bullshit, of course—if he left after we had sex, the self-doubt would be far worse than if I had simply stayed home and jerked off—but I put that out of my mind. Either way, sex was going to happen when we got back to our room.
My heartbeat increased as I intertwined my fingers with his. His touch sent scorching heat through me, making every nerve ending ignite with pleasure. He was like a narcotic that numbedthe ache in my soul and left me craving for more. My body hummed with desire and my blood ran hot at the contact.
We arrived at the B&B, and I stumbled up the three steps. Henry caught me and I laughed, but he looked. . . unamused. My cheeks heated up and the wave of embarrassment washed over me.I freed my hand and almost fell over again.
