My "Straight" Neighbor

To say that Misha ruined our date would be an understatement. She didn’t just suck the life out of Denver, or just suck the life out of me– but sucked the life from DC as a whole.

Whoever this woman is, she ruined our day… my day.

This is all I ever wanted, ever since I met him; ever since I laid my eyes on him. I just wanted us to be together, be an us. And she ruined it.

Not to say we hurried back to the car or ended the day abruptly, but we may as well have. There was no more spark in his eyes, no more wrapping his fingers around mine. We were having such a perfect day, and that one encounter; that singular woman. It diminished all of it.

The rest of the few hours we spent in the city were incomparable to the first few. All I wanted was Denver back, the man that held my hand and called me “darling”; the man that didn’t have a care in the world about being with me. But I could tell his brain was foggy, smothered by her presence.

Eventually we did get back to the parking garage after another museum and early dinner. Our walks became quiet and talks even more so. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know what I could ask.

What I wanted to know was who the hell Misha is. How the fuck does she know Denver? What power does she hold that could throw such a perfect day like this out of the window?

And so in his Mazda, trying to exit the city; we got stuck in terrible traffic going north. I already spent the first thirty minutes of our drive editing pictures that I took, trying to relish in the amazing moments of that day. But soon I was out of pictures, out of memories.

I peered over at him, his jaw unclenched; driving with ease. Maybe he calmed down, maybe he would talk.

So I cleared my throat, “Thank you.” I smiled at him, despite the nightmare; he did take me on a date.

He smiled back, took a good look at me and placed his hand at my thigh; “For what?”

I concentrated on the muscles in his jaw, the muscles in his neck as I answered him; “For the date. For the day. For paying for everything.” He cracked a smirk at my last words.

“I did pay for everything didn’t I?” He tapped on my thigh before switching to the clutch, moving to another gear and sliding into another lane. “And I’d do it again.”

I still melted, still cared. “I had an amazing day with you.” I was honest; “I wish it was longer.” No more lies.

“Me too.” He added, glancing my way; “It made me happy to see you so happy today.” And my eyes went wide with his statement. I made him happy; just for being me.

I smiled from ear to ear, not having words to match such an incredible sentence. So instead, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek; leaving a line of red heat that traveled up his face.

He gripped his wheel tighter, shifted in his seat and cleared his own throat. “So, uhm.” He started, “I’d like to take you out again.” He looked in my direction.

The grin never left my lips; “Anytime.” I answered back.

He chuckled at my response, “I just need to deal with what happened earlier first.” And my smile fell flat.

Why’d he bring it up? Why’d he have to do that? I’d almost forgotten all about the bitch, until he reminded me. “You know…” I started, “I’ve been meaning to ask. Who is that girl really?”

An uncomfortable look snuck across his face, “Just an annoying friend.” I didn’t believe him.

“You called her a cousin.” I stated, done with the lies; done with the games. “You can tell me the truth.” And he shot me a look, one that practically screamed; I don’t want to talk about it.

But oh well. I wanted answers.

He sighed, “Seriously, just a friend.” Why did I get the sense that he wasn’t telling the full truth?

“Well your friend– Misha. What? Are you scared she’s going to tell everyone and their mother about us or something?” I asked without thinking, watched as his jaw tensed and his grip tightened.

He shook his head, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? It’s a simple yes or no question.” I pried. I tried not to, stayed silent for hours. But we were sitting in never ending traffic, I was re-arranging the entire day in my mind and it kept landing on her; on Misha.

He scoffed, “Rude much?” He retorted; “Yes, maybe. I don’t know, I need to talk to her.”

I rolled my eyes, “Why are you so sure she saw anything? What if you talk to her and confirm her suspicions? Who says she’ll tell anybody?” I just kept going, kept asking.

Now he rolled his eyes, “I don’t know.” He snapped his head to me, a concerningly furious look in his eyes. “I do not fucking know.” His eyes went back to the road, “Can you stop with the questions and just let me talk to her.” But it didn't sound like a question, or a request– more like a demand.

What did he want from me? To drop it? Say “yes, sir” and be okay with this random chick having so much power over him; be okay with him not telling me the fucking truth?

“Fine.” I folded my arms, leaned my head into the rest and stared blankly out of the window.

He scoffed again, “Don’t pout like a child.” He just had to add to the fire.

“I’m not the one acting like a child.” I snapped back at him, still refusing eye contact.

He laughed, that same laugh from weeks ago when he argued. “Oh, I’m the child? Right, because a child would take you out on a date and pay for everything.” He laughed again, I stayed still– silent. “A child would drive you back home, right?”

I broke, whipped my head to his; “Are you trying to prove my point?” I asked him, red in the face with anger; “A child would throw the nice things they did for someone back in their face.” I spat at him.

And that surely silenced him, but for a moment.

He shook his head as we started to clear from the traffic; “I’m sorry.” He said quietly, “I’m just trying to figure all this shit out.”

“What shit?” I mumbled, back to looking out of the window.

And my heart silently cracked as he barely managed to say, “Me.”

- - -

I was going to invite him inside when we got back home. I was thinking about all the nasty things we’d do to each other for days leading up to that date. But by the time we parked at home, by the time I had processed everything we talked about. I decided to let him figure this shit out; figure himself out– alone.

So I avoided my phone for the night, avoided the replies and likes to my instagram stories; avoided the texts he sent me.

And I went to sleep early, curled up in my bed; in my apartment alone.

I refused to answer him the following day, refused to answer anyone actually– besides my manager. It was nice in a way, taking a break and recharging my social battery; having a productive work day.

But around six o'clock when I finally checked my phone; I read the missed texts from him.

8.21 pm. I’m sorry again.

9.41 pm. Hey, can I come over? I wanna talk.

10.02 pm. ??

11.39 pm. Goodnight Max <3

9.53 am. A little late, but good morning sunshine.

12.33 pm. The girls wanna know if you’re still down for card night?

3.44 pm. It’s not very nice to ignore people.

Damn was he annoying. And here I thought that I would be the one who acted like this, who acted like the crazy ex-girlfriend.

4.12 pm. I told the girls you weren’t feeling well last night to get you out of it. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?

But that actually tugged on me a bit. That was actually sweet. I huffed, staring at our text thread for a while before responding.

Thanks for the cover. Today’s been a day but yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. And I sent it, not wanting to debate for hours on if it was right or not.

Of course I wanted to see him, who wouldn’t? I just felt invalidated, pushed to the side; ignored. All I wanted was some answers, some fucking truth.

He responded quickly. Nice to know you’re alive. I’ll see you then, have a good night.

And still I couldn't help the tug of a smile to my lips. A part of me wanted to do card night, and was ready to get the hell out of this house. But another part of me wanted space; wanted just a shred of time to myself.

I thought about our conversation in the car all day today. When it came to the real shit, the real questions– he blocked me out. Was I stupid to think he wouldn’t? Was I stupid to think Denver would ever let me in, really in?

It made me question what we were. Just casual sex… or more? Jesus fuck, I wanted more. I would do anything for it to be more. But in moments like these I realized what I would be in for, what I’d have to deal with if it ever became more than casual, secretive sex.

Were we even compatible like that? Could we ever work as a couple? Would fights like these happen on a regular basis? Who knows?

But I slouched into my couch, turned something on the tv to get rid of the loud silence.

- - -

I had a lot of time to rethink everything that night alone, a lot of time to rethink everything the day after. Maybe I was harsh, maybe I was nagging him. But was it all in ill will? Was it me being crazy just to be crazy? No. I had my reasons… but so did he.

So I made it a point to have him come over, have that talk he wanted to have.

It was later in the evening when he arrived at my apartment. “Hey.” I answered the door to him, fighting the emotions that rose to the surface every time I got a look at him.

“Hey.” He smiled, walking in and gently closing the door. There was an odd tension in the air, a tension that made me hold my hands behind my back; keep tight-lipped until he decided to talk.

But all that flew out the window when he embraced me, pulled my body into his in a warm and inviting hug. I wrapped my arms around him too, breathed in his scent; relished in the vintage suede body wash he used. “I’ve missed you.” He spoke softly above me, squeezing me as he said it.

“I’ve missed you too.” I spoke into his chest.

We broke away, an unnerving calm between us for now. The calm before the storm? I wondered, would it always be like this? Did it have to be like this?

His eyes averted to the floor, a hand scratched behind his head as his eyes squinted; “I talked to Misha.” There it was, that fucking name. “She speaks in riddles so…” he sighed, “I don’t really know what she saw.”

Sounds familiar; the riddle talking. “Okay.” I met his eyes, “And?” I added.

“And…” he dragged the word, stretching his neck as he spoke; “I– Can we sit please?” He motioned to the couch.

My heart began racing, color drained from my face as he kicked off his shoes. Why do I need to sit? What kind of news is he trying to break? What is he trying to break? Us? This? My stomach lurched at the thought.

We took a seat in my sectional and he took a deep breath, “Max, I…” he started, everything inside me swarming; “I first, need to apologize.” He bit at his lip, “I am sorry, Max. Really, I am. I don’t know why I snapped at you. I don’t know why sometimes it feels like it’s easier to snap at you.” He shook his head; “You just remind me of everything I’ve kept hidden in my life.” Well jeez, that fucking hurt. “And I don’t expect you to understand that completely, but at least hear me out.”

My lips parted as my breathing quickened; “Okay.” I said quietly.

“We haven’t spoken about it much. Me, that is.” His eyes met mine fully, “I used to be really hot-tempered, if that wasn’t obvious. And I’d turn around and hurt the people closest to me a lot. You can ask Roman and the girls, it was always hard for me to just be happy.” He slouched into the couch, twiddling his fingers; “I’ve been through a lot in life that’s made me an unhappy person, taught me how to be unhappy and stay that way.” He took another deep breath, “And there have been many people in my life who try to fix that about me, fix what’s wrong with me. And usually they give up. Lord knows all my exes have. They never ended well, never ended mutually.”

He was opening up, I could feel the truth oozing from him. But more so, this conversation felt like an explanation. An explanation for what? I could only fear the worst as I held my breath.

“And this…” he motioned a finger between us, “Is something I don’t want to ruin. But I feel like I am and I feel like you're not helping it.” What? I furrowed my brows, “I mean like– you keep harping on me to be open with you, be open with everyone but I haven’t been ready for that.” He shook his head. “I know it's 2023 and being gay or bi or whatever isn’t the end of the world. But that’s a big change for me.” I could feel my eyes begin to sting, I could feel the words coming from his mouth; he was done– done with me.

“But you have made me happy.” He brought his eyes to mine, “You got me thinking heavily about it, more than I ever had before. You are the first guy I’ve ever seen so regularly like this, the first guy I’d ever taken on a date.” His words melted me, “You are the first guy I’ve ever called mine. But I know you want more than what we’ve been doing, you made that very apparent the other week. I know you were drunk but I sensed the truth within it.” My eyes stung even more, tears threatened to spill; “So I guess what I’m trying to say is…” He took a final deep breath; “Is this what you want? Do I make you happy? Are you willing to deal with me and my issues?” He asked me.

I was at a loss for words, my throat was dry and my brain was still processing everything he just said.

But he looked at me with those eyes, those pleading emerald eyes. “You do make me happy.” I said softly, sniffing the tears back so they wouldn’t fall.

“But you don’t want to deal with me? Wait for me?”

Now I took a deep breath, “Denver. I liked you from the second I saw you. And that first night of ours when I realized you weren’t out, I told myself I’d wait– told myself to be patient.” I breathed. He opened up, he told the truth. I wasn’t going to lie– not now.

“But I soon realized what it was like to be put back in the box, and I hate it.” I shook my head, “I hate not being able to say what I want, do what I want. It’s a feeling I wasn’t prepared for when this first started.” I could see his eyes begin to gloss, the fear shaking within his pupils; “I get that this is new for you, I do. I understand full heartedly, I’ve been there; done that. But everytime I see you…” I started to choke, “Everytime I feel you, I fall harder and harder for you.”

His eyebrows raised, “I want nothing more than for this work. No, I want desperately for this to work, I fucking dream about it working. I do. But everytime it gets closer and closer, something happens that pushes us back.”

“I know.” He said, looking down to his lap.

My eyes followed his, our eye contact not so strong at this moment; “Serious question.” I stated, not following his eyes that met mine. “Do you think we could ever be an us?”

And a long pause followed, a pause that internally answered the question. “Yes.” He surprised me and my eyes shot up and locked with his, “I do.”

I swallowed thickly, nervously; “Another serious question.” I started, “Is it just the idea of me that you like? Being with a guy? Sex with a guy? And that’s why it’s hard for you?” I asked.

He shook his head furiously, “God, no. No. The idea of being with a guy is what’s scary. The idea of being with you…” He smiled through a breath, looking away then back to me; “That’s what’s exciting.”

I smiled back slightly, “So what does all this mean?”

We both stared. We both thought. What did this mean? What did this whole conversation allude to? Have we actually sorted anything out?

“I think it means that we both understand each other better now.” He nodded his head, “I think that I’m glad I came over to talk to you.”

I nodded too, “I’m glad you did too.” I bit my lip, still wondering what this all meant. We didn’t really come to a resolution here. We’re still at the same point we were earlier today, just this time we didn't fight– didn’t argue.

“So you forgive me?” He asked softly.

And I smiled, crept over to him and wrapped my arms around his muscled figure; “Of course I do.” And I pulled away to look at him directly, “And I’m sorry too. I seem to have these unrealistic expectations set for you, and truth be told– I still barely know you. And that’s not fair.”

He smirked, “I think you know me pretty damn well.”

I chuckled, “So we’re good?”

“We’re good.” He answered.

- - -

Yes, we fucked right after that. I mean– duh. Of course we did.

But the next few days I replayed that conversation, tested what he said to me. If it were true, that it was me who made him happy and not the sex; not me being a guy. Then he wouldn’t be upset if I wasn’t in the mood right? He wouldn’t leave or not come over just because I wasn’t down to fuck– right?

And he passed. Three nights in a row he came over during our hours of the night, I’m sure expecting what we normally do. But I didn't let it happen, even if I was sporting a hard-on; I pushed past it. I needed to know that he’d stay, needed to know that spending time with me doing absolutely nothing was enough.

It seemed that it was.

Though I kept circling back to what I expected from him. I know that I may be sounding like a broken record here but… is it so wrong of me to want him to just come out already?

He already knows the people around him will accept him. He already knows I would accept him. So what’s the hold up? Is it his parents? Come to think of it, he’s never spoken about his parents unless he was around Roman. So maybe that’s it? Maybe he’s just scared of their reactions and to that, I could understand.

But still, fuck. I felt stuck and there was nothing to do but wait.

So I did just that, waited and waited and waited.

Until that following Saturday rolled around, the day of Roman’s family’s charity banquet at the country club.

I had to admit, I didn’t take Roman one for being someone who could clean up so nicely, but when I met everyone at the girls apartment– wow. And when I got a look at Denver… WOW.

They both had suits on, fine taupe colored silk underneath black blazers and pants. Denver actually did his hair, slicked it into a part and wore an expensive looking watch.

“Wooo Wooo.” Roman whistled at me jokingly, “Hottie alert.”

And then Denver’s eyes met mine, his gaze traveling all the way down my dress clothes and all the way back up. If I didn't know better, I’d say a blush ran to his cheeks but he was pretty good about keeping that to himself in front of everyone.

“Fuck, I’m just gonna change I–” Emily stormed into the living room wearing a flattering green dress that hugged her body just perfectly. “Woah.” She stopped in her tracks when she saw the three of us dressed to the nines. “Leahhh!” She screamed for her friend, “Come and see this.”

And Leah followed out shortly after, smiling at us three in her own flattering dress of blue. “Aw.” She raised her hands to her heart, “It’s like prom all over again.” She gave a look to Emily.

I laughed at their remarks, realizing now that they were probably talking about Denver and Roman. “Are we ready?” Leah asked.

“No.” Emily whined, flailing her dress in annoyance.

The boys rolled their eyes but really, this was a simple fix. So I said, “Emily, you look gorgeous. What’s the problem?”

“Well I–” She looked down at herself, twirling for a moment before looking at me; “Really?”

“Really.” I answered.

And that’s all it took for us to finally get out the door. We split cars to drive over there and was fortunate to drive with just Denver. As Roman sped off with the girls, I turned to him; “You look dashing.” I said with a smile.

That blush did creep to his cheeks as he grabbed my thigh, leaned over and kissed me; “You too.” He smirked, looking me up and down again with a lick to his lips; “Just imagine me tearing everything off later.”

I chuckled under his gaze, flattered by his words; imagining tearing all his clothes too. “Drive the car Denver.” I teased, earning a huff from him as he revved his Mazda and pulled us out.

The last time we were in this car together, we argued. But I tried not to think about that, tried not to think about that bitch that I still didn’t know. I refused to ask anyone about her, afraid it would raise too many questions.

It was a nice drive though, just me and him together; the sun already setting as we entered the gates of the country club. “Fyi…” he peered at me, smirking; “Roman’s family is eccentric to say the least.” I smiled, I could deal with a little crazy. “And uhm,” he gulped, squeezing my thigh again; “Misha will be there.”

I snapped my head to his, “What?” I grimaced.

“She’s a part of the family. And I was scared if I told you that maybe you wouldn’t come.” He admitted, and he was right. I probably wouldn’t have.

So I just rolled my eyes, “So more tiptoeing I imagine?”

He sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” I mumbled as we pulled into a long driveway. Of course this night would be ruined by her, by this random girl who spotted us in all of DC.

But I tried to not let it bother me. He was right, he didn’t control the guest list. But he could’ve told me earlier than two minutes ago. Either way, it is what it is. Get over it, Max.

Now, I’ve been to a country club before. As I said, summers with my grandma before she passed. But I’ve never seen one this grand, this nice. We had to exit the car out in front of a mansion like building while valet took the car to some unknown destination.

“Is Roman’s family rich?” I asked as we followed a staircase up to the front doors.

Denver only chuckled, “Have you not figured that out yet?”

No, I hadn’t. Roman didn’t act rich or snobby or live in a house. How would I know to expect that? Regardless, we entered through large wooden doors and were met with a pool of bodies that greeted us.

To quote Denver, Roman’s family is indeed eccentric. I had a feeling he was Italian, but I didn’t know his family would be so pure-bred that accents filled the halls. I must admit though, they were hilarious. They’d joke and laugh and scream profanities like it was their job. I stayed quite silent during it, just observing the dynamics of everyone.

Roman’s dad was a haughty man, loud and dominant. His mother– sweet. Plus their cousins and Roman’s brother; which lets not forget is gay too. But no sign of Misha at all.

Eventually the banquet wrapped, I’m assuming his family was going around collecting checks from the people they invited. And we were all led outside to a roaring bonfire, a few of Roman’s cousins, us five; and Wesley– the gay brother.

We all had beers or seltzers in our hands, talking and laughing over the fire– the moon landing softly over the horizon of trees that the backyard looked upon. I would sneak looks at Denver, and he would sneak looks at me. But of course nothing more, never more.

But as the night grew later and later, more and more people dispersed; leaving just us five sitting around the open flames– alcohol coursing through all of us. “Max, are you coming?” Leah and Emily were standing above me, tilted heads as they asked.

“Coming where?” And the boys laughed, knowing I was lost in my own thoughts.

Emily grabbed my hand, “To the bathroom silly.” And they hoisted me out of my seat and dragged me through the pitch dark yard until we entered a side door that led to an inside bar. “Wait for us.” They chuckled amongst each other, fleeing to the bathroom while I stood there– confused as to why they even asked me to join them.

But I took the moment to scan the open bar, admire the craftsmanship of the room. It was beautiful.

“Max, right?” I twisted around at the unfamiliar voice. It was Wesley.

I nodded, extending my hand; “Wesley, right?” And he shook my hand.

“You can call me Wes.” He added, looking me up and down. “I hear you’re the gay one.”

I shook my head confused, taken aback by such a statement. “Uhm, yeah I am.” I said as I found all the attributes that he and Roman shared. “Wh–”

He cut me off, “What’s between you and Denver?”

“Wait, what?” I was so confused. Who does he think he is? What the fuck does he know? And this is totally not the right way to start a conversation.

He chuckled with amused brown eyes, “You keep looking at him. He keeps looking at you. Yet you both haven’t said more than a few words to each other all night. What’s going on?” He picked at a wine glass, rummaging through the expensive bottles lined on the bar.

“Nothing.” I said, clamming up by the sudden and correct assumptions.

He glanced at me, opened a bottle and poured himself a glass; “Crushing on the straight boy?” He asked.

“You know, I’m just gonna head back outside.” I turned to leave.

“Wait.” He stopped me, “Sorry, I’m forward.” He added, while leaning against the bar. “But seriously, what’s going on?”

I shook my head, couldn’t help the heat rise to my cheeks as I denied it again. “Nothing!”

And that’s when his mouth fell open, his eyes went wide. “I fucking knew it.” He smirked and I drew my brows; “You’re boning him, aren’t you?” His smile only grew as I stepped away, my silence speaking volumes. “I always knew there was something I liked about him.”

“No…” I checked the coast for the girls, making sure they wouldn’t hear. “You’re wrong.”

“Then why are you afraid of them hearing?” He pointed at the bathroom door, a wicked smile on his face.

I don’t know how this kid figured all that out, but he needed to calm down. He needed to mind his fucking business. He needed to–

“Misha tipped me off.” He took a swig of his wine, “Such an instigator that one is.” Just the sound of her name sent rage through my eyes.

I shook my head again, “Misha’s wrong and you’re wrong.” I demanded that it be the truth.

He laughed again, “Listen, I can keep a secret.” He added, “That or I just tell everyone…” He dragged while swirling the wine in his glass.

“No.” I sputtered, “Please don’t do that.” I guess that’s all the confirmation he needed.

His eyes widened, “So it’s true.” He nodded his head, “Interesting.”

“Please keep this to yourself.” I submitted to his knowledge of it, there was no hiding it anymore. “Please stop talking so loud.” I added in a whisper, checking the bathroom door again.

He whispered too, “How big is it?”

And I took another offended step back, “That’s really none of your fucking business.”

“Ha!” He added loudly, then back to a whisper, “Misha and I always thought it would be big.”

I just stared blankly at his confidence to say what was on his mind, regardless if it was rude. But he mentioned her again, someone who might just give some insight on who the fuck she really is.

“Who is Misha?” I asked plainly.

He cocked a head, setting down his glass. “My cousin, why?”

I took a sharp breath, do I really ask? I mean he clearly already knows. “Denver called her his cousin too. Then a friend. Did they date or something?” I asked.

He chuckled again, “Misha and Denver? God no.” I sighed in relief, “She’s just the drama starter of the family.” He kept using that term, family. It made me wonder, why is Denver so close with her? So close with Roman’s family?

“Well… since you know.” I took another breath, another look at the closed bathroom door; “Why is Denver so scared of her? Why does he act like she would go and tell all of his family?”

He tilted his head again, “Because she would.” Color drained from my face, “Our family isn’t that big.”

I shook my head, “Not yours, his.” I corrected him.

And that’s when a look of shock took to his face, his lips pursed; “What has Denver told you about his family?” I racked my brain, knitting my brows at the question. He… hasn’t, really. Now his eyes opened with a nod, “He hasn’t told you.”

“Told me what?” I asked. But right at that moment, the girls emerged from the bathroom in a fit of laughter.

They were stumbling over each other, “Max!” They screamed, “Max, come on!” I looked between them and Wes. What was Denver hiding? What about his family?

“Have fun.” Wes added, grabbed his wine glass and fled the room with a very knowing look about him. I turned to the girls, drunker than vikings.

And I walked them back outside, rejoining the boys by the fire. But now– now I have some serious questions to ask, some serious shit to talk about.

What the hell is he hiding?

---

A/N - Thanks for reading! Love the comments!