"You don't need to deal with anything," Sam told him like he didn't want to burden Wyatt with his issues.
That's not how Wyatt saw it. "But if I need to, it will be OK. I can handle it," he assured Sam, but he also wanted to understand a little better. "What does it feel like when you have these panic attacks?"
"I feel faint and short of breath. My hands go numb and I can't breathe, like my throat is closing up. Everything starts to go black. I don't actually pass out. It just feels like I will. Either that or that I'll never be able to take in another breath and I'll die."
"Damn," Wyatt said and he pulled him into a hug. "I never want you to feel anything like that."
"I haven't for a while, and I think that's because of you," Sam said and his gray eyes brightened.
"Really?" Wyatt said.
"You're a good guy, and that makes me feel safe," Sam said, his voice becoming tight.
"Well you make me feel happy and crazy about you," Wyatt told him and shifted so they were facing each other more fully.
"What if we go up to my room?" Sam said, surprising him.
Wyatt didn't have to think hard about his answer. "I've been dying to see where you live. Lead the way," Wyatt said and gave him his hand.
Sam leaned over and blew out the candle in the middle of the table. A wisp of smoke went up from it, and he turned to Wyatt. Holding his hand, Sam told him, "I know this isn't the perfect date, but it's amazing because it's with you."
Hearing him say something like that, Wyatt had to kiss him right now. He drew him close and sealed Sam's mouth with his. While around them the café stretched out dark and empty, Wyatt felt like they were the only people in the world.
***
As they left the café and strolled toward his room above the hardware store, the anxiety that made Sam's heart race wasn't like anything he ever felt before. The tension that filled him was deep, aching and sweet, and all new to him.
It was excitement mixed with fear of feeling too much, of getting in too deep, but it didn't stop him. But he still didn't get far. At the bottom of the stairs Wyatt grabbed him and spun him around.
"This was a great date. Thank you," he said and now Sam was experiencing a new fear.
Did Wyatt want to end their date right here? Before the disappointment could crush him, Wyatt kissed him. It was an incredible kiss full of deep need. This couldn't be a kits goodnight.
Then Wyatt drew back and looked into his eyes, speaking softly as he asked him, "You ready for this?"
Sam's eyes darted to his mouth then back to the deep blue of his eyes. He trusted him, and he wanted him so much.
"Let's get upstairs," Sam told him and took his hand to lead him up to his room. At the door, he remembered that his room was nothing to be proud of and he hesitated.
"We don't have to do anything if you..." Wyatt started to say.
"No. I want to. I'm just embarrassed about my room," Sam confessed.
"What's so bad about it? Are you messy? A real slob?" Wyatt asked then he answered his own question. "No way you're a slob."
"No. It's just small and shabby."
"Hmm." Wyatt narrowed his eyes at him and observed him closely. Finally he asked, "Are you afraid that I'll pounce on you the second we're alone?"
More like hoped, but he was scared too. "Let's go," he said and Wyatt hooked an arm around his waist and kissed him while Sam tried to get the key in the door without breaking their kiss. He finally had to give up or they would never get inside.
Stepping inside, Wyatt took a quick look around. "Not too bad," he pronounced it.
Standing next to Wyatt, Sam thought they might have arrived at a different room. Maybe it was because Wyatt was there, but now his room seemed transformed. Moonlight streamed in like he had never seen it before. It made the window shine with a pale light and a soft breeze had the old curtain billowing.
With a hand on his lower back, Wyatt guided him to the middle of the room where moonlight seemed to gather. He then took Sam in his arms, spun him around once and started swaying in a slow rhythm.
"Are we dancing?" Sam asked, surprised.
