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“I’m not going to out you, if you’re not out,” I said. “I’m an asshole, but not like that.”
Gage took a long drink and let out a longer sigh. “It’s not a secret. Rather, I haven’t told anyone except Evie, but I figured it out a few years ago, and it’s not… I’ve never acted on it. I don’t care if people know, there’s just nothing to tell.”
Oh. That had a few implications. “I was your first? I popped your boy cherry?”
Gage rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure it takes more than a kiss to do… whatever that means.”
“You know what it means.”
Beer sloshed up the lip of Gage’s bottle when he set it on the coffee table. “Seriously. Why are you like this?”
I hated hearing the same question I’d been asking myself off and on for too long. Hearing him voice the thoughts in my head summoned my frustration, and something inside me snapped.
“I’m almost fifty fucking years old. I was married to the love of my life. We had our entire future ahead of us. Do you think I want to be chasing down shitty sales, from people who aren’t interested in talking to me, like some greenie who just graduated from State? If I were a more insightful man, I’d say I’ve been sabotaging the entire thing because I don’t fucking want to be here.”
I didn’t mean to say any of that, but fuck it felt good to put words to it. It also hurt like hell.
“Then why are you here?” Gage asked.
God damn him. “Because I don’t give up. I’m not Tony. I don’t throw away my future because things get hard.”
“You’re doing something you don’t want to do, because you lost someone you love. Sounds to me exactly like giving up.”
I really did hate him. “Fuck you. Fuck your perfect little grill in this perfect fucking little town and your perfect fucking childhood sweetheart. You still have the love of your life, you just have to stop being a pussy and go fucking be with her.”
“And you just have to yank the pity dick out of your mouth, walk away from this job, and go back to being who you want to be.”
I should hit him. Punch him square in his smug face.
Instead, I gripped the back of his neck and dipped my head in.
Gage pressed his hand to my chest and pushed me back. “Nope. Not nearly drunk or off-guard enough for that this time.”
At least one of us was thinking straight. I picked up my bottle. “Funny you should say that, because I’m pretty sure I’m too sober for any of this.” I drank the rest of my beer and grabbed another.
Hours later—I didn’t care how many—I was drunk enough to stop thinking. “This feels good.” I meant to keep that to myself. Oops.
“What’s that?” Gage moved his mouth like he was tasting the words.
“When my brain shuts off.”
“Sounds dangerous.” He was definitely slurring his words. “You know what else felt good?”
“Wuzzat?” I asked.
“That kiss at Joystick’s.”
I smirked. “Yeah, it really was.”
Gage raised his eyebrows. “No smart quips or comebacks?”
“Not sober enough for either of those things you just said.”
“You’re a nice drunk. Go figure.” Gage laughed.
“I’m nice in general.” I frowned. “I used to be.” The thoughts were coming back. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’d rather they stay away a lot longer.
I leaned in and crushed my mouth to Gage’s in a sloppy, desperate kiss.
