Clouds
I’m torn. There’s a part of me, driven mostly by the lust still coursing through my veins, that wants to chase after Taylor. He’s already gone, though. Oh, he might still be at the party – he probably is – but for me, he’s already gone. Whatever passed between us has already left, and the moment is over all to soon, like it always is.
The rest of me wants to chase after Carrick, and that’s the part that I give in to.
I can only hope that he’s still there. He fled the room just as quickly as Taylor, if not moreso, but I can’t imagine that he would leave the party entirely. He’ll at least hang around and say hello to everyone and pretend that everything’s okay. I hope.
As I make my way back through the house, I try to prepare some kind of excuse about having to use the bathroom or something. It doesn’t matter, though. They hardly even seem to notice that I’ve been missing. Only one pair of eyes find me as I step back into the yard.
Carrick.
I can’t read the emotion in his eyes, though. They’re usually so blue, but right now, they’re dull and gray. It reminds me too much of Taylor; his eyes were never quite that bright, but over the years, they’ve lost their intensity, just like the rest of him. Now Carrick’s are the same shade, more like storm clouds than the brilliant sky blue I love staring into.
He turns back to Johnny and says something, not loud enough for me to hear, then breaks away from the crowd. He’s digging through his pockets as he makes his way to me, and I’m not surprised at all when he pulls out a pipe and nods toward the alley. I give him a nod, and follow behind him, but not closely. It feels wrong, somehow, to be so close to Carrick right now.
Once we’re concealed around the corner of the house, he brings the pipe to his lips and pulls out his lighter. I’m captivated by his movements, watching the way his already hollow cheeks draw in even tighter as he sucks on the pipe until it crackles to life. There’s something so erotic about it, even compared to what I just witnessed Taylor doing. And as soon as I compare him to Taylor again, I feel sick. How can I even compare the two of them, when they’re so different?
He takes a long hit before passing the pipe to me and I’m powerless to refuse it. Everything that’s happened since I was last in this alley has ruined my high, and I’m desperate for something to cling to, something to anchor me. I know this won’t be it, not for long, but for the moment, it’ll do. We pass the pipe back and forth a few times before either of us speaks.
“I’m such a fucking creep,” Carrick says, then chuckles. “I mean, shit… I wasn’t trying to watch you guys. You were just there… and then I was there and… shit.”
Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. All I can do is nod and watch a few thin wisps of smoke escape Carrick’s mouth as he laughs as the absurdity of the entire situation.
“I mean, I’m the one who said that…” he begins, then shakes his head. “Well, you can do whatever you want. It’s your choice.”
I nod again. I know I need to say something, but I just don’t know what. Maybe I shouldn’t smoke so much; it might make me feel better, but it’s not so good for my speech. I’m not exactly eloquent under the best of circumstances, anyway.
“If you’re happy with him, then…”
There’s more to that sentence, I’m sure of it. But whatever it is, Carrick evidently thinks better of saying it. I guess this is my opportunity to say something before he keeps rambling and only saying half his sentences.
“I’m not…” I begin, trying to adjust to the way words feel in my mouth. “I’m not happy without him.”
It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but Carrick nods anyway like he understands completely.
“Yeah, I know,” he replies. “Like I said, you can do whatever you want. If you wanna… be with him… then be with him. I’ve got no claim on you.”
“You’re my best friend.” It’s stupid and obvious, but it’s the only thing I can find it in myself to say. That means something, doesn’t it, that friendship?
“And he’s your brother,” Carrick points out, but it’s not with disgust, like it probably should be. “That trumps best friends. I know I’ll always come second to him.”
I shake my head, but I can’t say anything, because it would be a lie. He’s right. No matter how long Carrick is in my life, Taylor will have been there longer, will have shared far more of the troubles – and the good times, too – with me. Taylor will always just be more to me than anyone else could ever hope to be.
And he’ll almost always be worse to me, too. It seems he’ll always be so close and so far away, no matter what I do. But I guess he has to be that way. He is my brother, after all.
“I wish I didn’t have to choose,” I admit, immediately feeling awful for saying it. It’s like a physical blow to Carrick; I can practically see him reeling from the punch. But I do have to choose, don’t I? I can’t have them both.
“You know, you’re forgetting someone. Your wife.”
Even I’m surprised by the hoarse laugh that comes out of my mouth then. “She won’t be much longer.”
“Oh,” Carrick says. “Well… solves that problem, I guess. When did you get so cynical, Zac?”
I don’t like the pity mixed with accusation that I can hear in his voice, but I probably deserve them both. All I can do is shrug in reply.
“I honestly don’t know. It’s amazing I didn’t get this way a long time ago, I think.”
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in close, and I let myself curl up against his shoulderblade. It’s only been a few days, but it seems I’d already forgotten how good it feels to be in his arms. I’ve never been the smaller one, the one who needed holding. Not that I’m really the smaller one now, when I outweigh Carrick by a good twenty pounds, but he holds me like I’m not just the shorter one.
“Let’s get you back, okay?” He asks. “Let’s figure out how to get the old Zac back. The Zac I… know.”
I’m not sure know was his first choice of word there, but I’m not going to call him out on it. The word love feels empty and hollow to me right now. I know lust and need and desire. I can say that I love Taylor, but I don’t really remember the last time that feeling wasn’t mixed with something painful.
“I’m not sure he can come back,” I mumble into Carrick’s shoulder.
“Bullshit. He’s still there. I know he is.”
I wish I could be so certain. A few short weeks seem to have changed everything. I barely even remember what my life was like before Carrick moved here. I’m not blaming him for all the changes, of course. I don’t know who to blame, although it’s all too easy to pin it on Taylor.
Carrick sighs. “You know what the worst part is?”
I’m not sure I want to ask, but I can’t stop myself. I shake my head and say, “No, what?”
“It was really kind of hot,” he replies. “Watching you two, I mean. How fucked up is that?”
“Not any more fucked up that being one of the ones doing it, I guess.”
“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I guess not.”
I know the next words out of my mouth are going to sound really odd, but I can’t stop them from tumbling out. It just feels like they need to be said, and hopefully Carrick will allow me to explain so that maybe, just maybe, I make a little bit of sense.
“Thanks,” I say.
“For what?”
“For… for not getting so freaked out by all this. Especially what you just saw, but the whole thing. Just knowing how I feel about him and what’s… what’s happening between me and him now.”
“I keep forgetting that you’ve never told anyone else,” he admits with a tiny laugh. “I guess it’s just… such a part of you, you know? Just a fact of you. And I forget that not everyone knows.”
I give him a little nod, my head bumping into his chin slightly and making both of us laugh. “Yeah… I guess that makes sense. It is just a part of me.”
“Can I ask you something?”
I nod again, careful not to leave any bruises this time.
“What… what did you do before you met me?” He asks, brushing back my hair a little and glancing down at me. “I mean, before you told anyone… how’d you deal with it?”
“I guess I didn’t,” I admit. “I don’t know. I just bottled it up, you know? Categorized it under ‘things that will never happen outside of my wet dreams’ and married the first girl who showed more than a little interest in me.”
“There’s that cynicism again,” he says, but I don’t hear quite as much judgment in his voice this time.
“I’m pretty sure it’s here to stay,” I reply, snuggling a little closer to him.
I can’t resist the urge to kiss his neck; it is right there, after all, just within my reach and so tempting. I know I should feel awful for trying to do anything like this with Carrick right now, after everything he’s seen, but I can’t stop myself. He tenses a little, but it passes so quickly that I would have missed it if I weren’t so tuned in to his body. Just as quickly, he relaxes and sighs. I know that sound. I know he won’t stop me if I try to go a little further…
My lips make their way up Carrick’s neck, ghosting across the stubble on his chin. I’m not sure how I feel about this beard he’s grown, but now isn’t really the time to reflect on it. Finally, my lips find his, and it’s my turn to let out a sigh. He tastes like weed and just a hint of beer. It’s not a bad combination and it suits him perfectly. I want to stay there forever, drinking him in, but just as I tangle my hands in his shirt, I hear a gasp that I know didn’t come from either of us.
Taylor.
He’s leaning against the side of the house, obviously drunk, and his eyes are wide. Carrick and I both jump away from each other, even though it’s obvious we’ve been caught. I glance back and forth between the two of them, trying to will either of them to speak first and spare me the torture of trying to say anything at all that will make this right. I don’t think such words actually exist.
“Zac,” Taylor says, the word miles long in his drunken slur. “You’re going to give me a ride home, right?”
That was what we had agreed on. We both knew I wouldn’t get drunk, and even stoned, I’m a better driver than he is. Besides, we only brought my car. He’d be shit out of luck if I decided not to give him a ride home. Like so many other things between us, it was never really a question of if I would do what he asked.
“Yeah… I am…” I manage to croak out.
“Good. I’m ready to go.”
The words run together, but their meaning is clear. If he hadn’t been ready to leave when he saw me with Carrick, I’m pretty sure that sealed the deal.
It occurs to me, when I look back at Carrick and see his sad, stormy eyes looking back at me, that I could refuse Taylor. I’ve left him stranded before when he was drunk and I was angry. It’s not a common occurrence, but I’ve done it once or twice. This time, though, I don’t think I have a choice at all.