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I Read A Lot

By: lill_street_writer



Thanks to everyone who read my first story. I decided to get this started in chapters as a way to keep the ball rolling.



Tom

I read a lot. It's not what people expect when they first meet me, but I can't totally control first impressions, so I gave up trying a long time ago. For a bookworm, I'm kind of big and rough looking: tallish and a little burly. I exercise enough to keep in shape and relieve stress and I even play on an Ultimate Frisbee team to try to stay social. But mostly I read.

When I'm bored, I read adventure. When I'm sad I read comedies. When I'm feeling lonely, I'll even read love stories. Most of the time though, I read fantasies: magic, wizards, epic love, power struggles, archetypes of good and evil.. All the stories are huge, elaborate imaginary tales of great quests or generations-long battles for principles greater than one person. In the stories I really enjoy, characters are willing to give their lives, sacrifice their needs for the good of something bigger than themselves. There's love, romance, maybe a little sex, and everyone is gorgeous and the right people always fall in love. With all that, why bother with reality.

I can totally relate to people who get hooked on video games and movies. Often fantasy is much more compelling than real life. Who wouldn't rather be a strong knight questing for ultimate truth rather than a forty-hour-a-week guy who scrapes to pay his student loans. A battled-hardened hero struggling to free the weak and oppressed is so much more rewarding and exciting than remembering to take out the garbage and call your Mom on Sunday nights. While video works for some people, I like to read my fantasies. And I seem to read almost all the time.

Still, I'm a pretty normal guy. I work, exercise, hang-out with friends. But when I'm not doing those things, I dive into a world of my choice. 

Lately, I think I must be a more than just lonely, because my fantasies of choice have been a little more graphic in nature. When I get like this, instead of looking at porn, like I imagine most men do, I read of course. There are raunchy porn stories about anonymous partners in risky places, loving romances with life-long partners, fraught angst-ridden pieces about guys who think they might be gay but aren't quite sure until they find the right guy. But it's all a fantasy, and I greedily consume it all, depending on my mood. 

These stories have some things in common: all the guys are good-looking; one of them is usually mostly hairless, except for a perfect treasure trail leading down to his above-average sized cock. It nearly makes me laugh that everyone has a huge dick. If everyone's package is so huge, then that means that average is huge, right? But that's the fantasy part: just suspend my disbelief, and all the boys are gorgeous and available-at least in print. And each man can come at least twice, if not three times night. A man can come without even touching his dick, if his lover is good. And his lover is always that good. Cum shoots off at the same force as a geyser, spraying everything in a three mile radius. And in porn, everyone can find their prostate and everyone swallows. 

If I think about it too much, it just makes me laugh, but since thinking is the last thing I want to do when I'm reading, I usually love it all.

After a week of sitting in my cubicle I like to reward myself with a trip to the library or bookstore. Like an addict visiting his dealer, I need to load up to get my fix all week. Since I had just gotten paid, I decided that this week I would head to the bookstore. A book I'd been waiting for was just released. A new book, a quiet chair, a yummy coffee drink and maybe some surreptitious scoping of good-looking eye candy would suit me just fine.

This week, the trip to the bookstore was turning into a total bust. With the parking lot crowded and the rain coming down, I was forced to park so far from the door that I was soaked by the time I finally pulled open the door and walked inside. The place was packed with folks who obviously had the same idea as I had, except that these people were all the middle aged Moms getting away from their families on Mommy's Night Out, or something. I'd been hoping for some intellectual hottie to gaze at and all I got was women who reminded me of my Mom. Add to that, my book wasn't on the shelf. Not on the regular fiction shelf, not in Sci Fi, and not in fantasy. I wandered around new releases and finally realized that it just wasn't there. This wasn't turning out the way I had expected at all. 

At least the coffee was tasty.

I sipped my drink for a while and finally decided I would ask someone for help. This is not a thing I do lightly, since it usually just ends up with me being even more frustrated than I was before. Most customer service workers aren't any smarter than I am. I mean, a company doesn't look at its most prized employee and decide 'Hmm, I think you would serve us best by helping idiots who can't see what's in front of them.' So when some high school student just looks on the same shelf where I just looked and tells me they don't have what I'm looking for, I sometimes have a hard time not ripping their puny head off.

My attitude toward CS workers isn't something new. In general, I don't like talking to strangers and I avoid it whenever I can. Those self-serve check-out lanes at the grocery store are the best invention since voice-mail. The only problem is when you have to weigh stuff and you don't know the number. The last thing I want to do is go over and ask someone for help with a price code. So I fixed that by peeling the stickers off the fruit and putting them on my list next to item. Apple, apple sticker: easy solution to aggravating social communication. 

The fact that I was ready for what was inevitably going to be a frustrating and pointless exercise just shows how desperate I was for this book. What a total nerd! Anyway, I walk over to the little desk where the book store plants its best and brightest and wait my turn. Behind the desk is a blond guy who looks a little too tall and a little too thin to be called good-looking. He's helping a Mom find the newest Oprah pick. I hope my sardonic snort isn't too loud. Tall-and-thin walks over to a table not twenty feet away and hands her the book in a friendly way. How can he be so nice, I wonder? It's a good thing I work with computers, where no one expects me have manners.

He's back and it's finally my turn to either be disappointed or to feel like an idiot, but before I can even get out a word, I'm interrupted. Up stalks a vision of intellectual geek, just like I'd been hoping to study. Medium height with lightly curling hair, his glasses have that cute-nerdy look to them and I'm afraid my mouth might be hanging open, drool spilling out. That reaction didn't last long, because then he opened his mouth.

"Hey Gabe, I heard you got stuck with CS tonight." He leaned on the other side of the counter and, I swear, batted his eyes at the guy who must be Gabe. Obvious much?

"Hi Rob. Yeah, but I don't mind it. The people are pretty nice and when it's slow, I can read. Better than unpacking boxes." Gabe shrugged and brushed off Snot-Nose's comment.

"Well, I brought you a white chocolate frappe-thing, as sustenance. Hang in there." The nerd smiled and flounced away. 

Gabe took a long slurp of the frappe and sighed in content as he turned to me. I'll admit that while he was sucking on that straw, I was starting to get a few impure thoughts. And there was at least a possibility that the guy was gay. Since the snot-nosed nerd had opened his mouth and ruined my fantasy, I thought I might see if I could crush on this guy for a few minutes.

"How can I help you?"

I explained myself and waited while the man punched his computer for a few minutes.

"Well, that book is due to be released on the third of this month." Gabe still looked at the screen and talked to me at the same time.

"Yeah, I know." In my head I was thinking, 'Tell me something I don't know.' "That's why I came in tonight. I didn't think you'd be sold out of them already; the author's not really that popular."

Gabe turned and fixed me with amber colored eyes. Amber, not just light brown. I thought I might pass out, his eyes were so gorgeous. The mystery of the flirting nerd was instantly solved. He spoke, and I had to focus to hear his words. "We have plenty of copies, but they won't go on sale until tomorrow. Today's only the second." He looked a little apologetic.

"Oh." Who's the dumbass now? Not only do I screw up the date, but I do it in front of the cute CS guy. Since when had I decided that he was cute? God, this was utter hubris. My Karma must have totally sucked if I couldn't even read the calendar. With the way my luck was going at this instant, Gabe wouldn't even be gay.

"If you'd like," he said in a kind voice. "I could hold a copy for you to pick up another time?"

Now I was too embarrassed and I just wanted to get away. "No, that's okay. Sorry for wasting your time," I managed to stammer before walking away. This so served me right for thinking I was smarter than other people. I guess I'm just smarter than most people, but not that night.

To assuage my hurt pride I wandered around until I found another book. It wasn't the one I really wanted, but it was filled good characters a few interesting plots devices. And I was just sure that no one in the book has difficulty using a calendar. I took the book and went over to the café. Once I sat down with the book and my coffee, I was soon launched into my own little world and I started to relax.

After a while, maybe eighty pages or so, someone blocked my light and didn't move. I glanced up, a little distracted to be back in the real world. It was the CS guy, Gabe.

"Hey, I tried clearing my throat a few times, but you seemed pretty involved in your book and didn't look up. Mind if I sit down for a minute?" Gabe said all this while he looked at me with those lion eyes.

"Yeah, sure." I was barely articulate, but I at least pulled out a chair for him. "I'm Tom. Are you on break?" What was he doing, sitting down by me?

"Yup. You seemed really disappointed when you left the Info Desk and I felt kind of badly for you. I mean, it's really easy to mess up the date and get confused about that stuff. It happens all the time." 

Gabe spoke so softly, that I found I had to lean in a little just to hear him. This made me feel close to him, almost like we knew each other, and a warm feeling crept over me. 

"It's really okay. I had a hard week at work and I think it messed with my brain. I'll just come back some other time and get it." I noticed that I was speaking softly too. I had the urge to touch Gabe's hand to set his mind at rest. I wanted to reassure him that I was fine, that he shouldn't worry about me. 

It was then that I noticed Gabe's large hand was on the table and a book was under it. His hand was large enough to nearly cover the book, obscuring the front. "Well," he said. "I thought I could maybe make it up to you." He moved his hand and revealed the book I had been asking for. 

"Wow." I gasped a little in surprise. "I never thought you might have connections. I must have looked pretty crushed for you to take pity in me." I looked up at him and smiled. 

"Kind of like I kicked your dog," he laughed and put us both at ease. "I brought the hold form for you to fill out. If you come back tomorrow, you can take it home tonight. I'll be in from 10 until 4 and I can 'sell' it to you then."

I looked at him askance. "If I report you to management, do I get a reward?" He laughed again. "You're really just a reprobate, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged," he smiled and said. "I'm just a petty criminal looking for the little score."

It was my turn to smile. I filled out the form and slid it covertly across the table, leaned back and gave him a conspiratorial wink. "Happy to do my part, Gabe. Can I ask why I can't just buy the book now, since it's here?"

Gabe shrugged. "The codes for new releases don't get downloaded until midnight. That helps prevent us from selling anything ahead of the date. I don't think anyone really used to care, but when the whole Harry Potter craze hit, this just became the procedure, I guess. It helps keep unscrupulous guys like me in line."

"It was a pleasure doing business," I said. I reached my hand across the table to shake with Gabe. His handshake was firm and his fingers were longer and slimmer than mine. 

Gabe made to get up. "It was nice meeting you, Tom. See you tomorrow."

After that welcome interruption, I tried to get back to my book, but I kept being distracted by thoughts of Gabe and our short conversation. Was he gay? Possibly. Did he flirt with me? No, but he was friendly. Have I ever seen eyes that beautiful before? Definitely not. 

I read a few pages of the story I had already started then my imagination got to work again. In gay romance, the couple always feels some frisson of sexual excitement or pending attachment when they first touch. I was sure that hadn't happened. Of course, I wouldn't mind it if it had, but it hadn't. We had shared a normal handshake, no frisson. In truth, the whole frisson-thing always makes me laugh. The only time I ever read the word was in those sexual-romantic stories and I always imagined it would feel like being hit with a mild taser – not exactly pleasant.

Coffee done and the book at a slow point, I chucked my white paper cup and headed out into the now drizzling weather and started for home. Now I had two books and eye candy to think about. The trip to the bookstore had turned out better than I had hoped.

I Read A Lot Ch. 02



Thanks to everyone for the positive feedback and encouragement. I am still working out length, and such.

*

Gabe

He was cute, rugged but cute. I only had to deal with the Mommy and then I would get a chance to hear his voice. Low, I figured. His voice would be low and a little bit gravelly.

Then Rob, the store manslut, had to do his nightly flirtation-rotation. I swear to god that nothing turns me off faster than a guy who throws the goods at me. If I wanted a hook-up, I'd go to a bar. At least he got my drink right, but it was still a little embarrassing.

When the cute guy asked for a book I knew wouldn't be out until the next day, I didn't have the heart to make fun of his lousy calendar skills. Something about Tom just told me that he wouldn't appreciate finding out he had messed up. So instead, I played at the computer for a few minutes and tried to let him down easily. He was so defeated that he kind of mumbled something and then wandered off.

The one cute guy I see that night and I have to disappoint him and make him frown. Why did I always have to pick the hard cases to fall for? I swore, if I fell for one more straight or confused man, I would be forever convinced that 'gaydar' was a total hoax. I might as well take Rob up on his ever-ready invitation, I was so hopeless at attracting any guy I would actually want to be with.

After about an hour of pointing out where the newest releases and book club picks were displayed and drinking my entire drink, I definitely needed a break. As I passed by the café, I noticed cute-and-quiet sitting by himself, reading. I detoured by the stockroom and opened a few boxes until I found the one I was looking for and I grabbed a clean book. Now I had a reason, or an excuse to interrupt my crush. Maybe he would even be grateful?

One of the perks of working at the bookstore was having sneaky access to books before they were released to the public. If this were Harry Potter or Twilight, I wouldn't be able to get anywhere within 50 feet of the secured boxes until midnight. But this was thoughtful, intelligent fantasy, not a huge blockbuster and the boxes were just sitting around waiting to be shelved tomorrow. A few days ago, no one had even noticed when I slipped one out of the store right after they were counted. Inside trick: if you can read without cracking the spine and bring the book back quickly, a bookstore is as good as the library.

Anyway, I palmed the book and headed out to the café. He sat there sort of curled up and completely absorbed in his book. I thought he might merge with it bodily. This guy would never stand a chance at sneaking free books like I did. Reading was practically a full-contact sport for him. He had the cover curled all the way back and I could tell that he already had half a dozen pages dog-eared. If he weren't so big and obviously manly, I would have said that he looked like a little kid, totally off in his own little world.

I swear I didn't try to scare the pants off of him. As I walked closer, I shuffled my feet and finally cleared my throat a bunch in an effort to get him to notice me. It occurred to me that he might be ignoring me, but mostly he seemed to be off in some trance. Finally, I stepped into his light which forced him to look up. His eyes were unfocused as he looked at me and I could tell he was having a hard time coming out of his book. Man, this guy was intense.

When Tom, that was his name, pulled out the chair next to him, I sat down and we started to talk. I was sitting next to him, not across the table, and I felt my body want to lean even closer. It was totally strange -- like he was some sort of magnet. And when we talked, I noticed that I really didn't want anyone to hear, and not just because I was sneaking a book to him. I wanted him to myself, I was feeling greedy.

A while back, I tried to figure out if I had a 'type'. All the labels bore me, since they pretty much only say something about a guy's looks. I mean, look at that guy Rob, at the bookstore: he would be perfect if he only had a brain and a personality. His appearance is great, but the rest of him needs a lot of work. 

Then, I realized that I probably wasn't all that interested in only how a guy looks and I started thinking about what my past flings had in common. Granted that I didn't really have enough experience to get a good scientific statistic, but I did notice some similarities. It seemed that I liked them strong in body and mind. I never seemed to go for guys who weren't at least my physical and mental equal. Who knows, maybe I love a challenge? There used to be this sculptor in Art School, he did metal welding, and he was hot. God, I could just watch him for as foreplay. A man who was at least assertive was good too, since I was a little shy when it came to making the moves. I just didn't have the cocky attitude that made me confident enough to go up and flirt with some adorable stud. They wouldn't even have to break me in two to make me feel weak, just a laugh in my face would crush me. 

So what exactly was I doing when I sat next to Tom and engineered a way to see him the next day? It wasn't like me to try to make the first move, even if I was being subtle. Usually, I waited until a man showed some interest in me first. And I didn't know if he was interested in me, let alone gay. But something about his intensity and the humor I could see in his eyes made me want to get to know him better. Nothing would come of it, I was sure, but what the hell.

**

Tom

I stayed up all night reading, like a total idiot. And I didn't only read, either. I seemed to be doing a little fantasizing of my own. There I was, plopped on my ancient, but decadently comfortable couch, completely submerged in a great fantasy novel when I realized that in my mind, the hero now looked just like cute-boy Gabe. Then I would close my eyes for a minute and pretend that we were together, and not on some quest. Who did this guy think he was, distracting me from my favorite distraction? With an effort, I kept reading but I didn't finish the book until the sky outside my windows started looking streaked and pinky-gold. Finally, I dragged myself to bed and slept like the dead.

When I woke up it was like a bolt of electricity had just rushed through me. One minute, I was happily rem-ing and the next I was sitting straight up, breathing hard and checking to see what time it was. Two-freaking-o'clock? How in the hell had I slept nine hours and what had caused me to wake up like the world was on fire? An image of Gabe's face swam behind my eyes, and suddenly I was up, across the room and in the shower before the hot water had even had time to make it through the pipes. Cold water blasted me in the face and immediately woke up my confused and stupid self.

The night before, I had idly wondered that if Gabe got to work at 10am, would 10:01 be too early to show up at the bookstore. Maybe if I were there at 10:02, I wouldn't seem too eager. Now it was after 1pm and I was dripping wet, anxious and hungry. I'd be lucky to even get there my 3pm and by then he would probably think I'd forgotten all about it and stiffed him for the price of the book. Crappity crap.

Then there was the sad fact of my laundry, which I only did on Sundays every other week. My wardrobe was never something to write to GQ about, but at least I wasn't a slob. That is, I wasn't a slob unless it was the day before laundry day. At this point, I'd be lucky to have underwear in my drawer. There was a pair in there, I soon found out, but I don't know if I was lucky or not. The pair of red bikinis that stared back at me screamed 'go commando' and I groaned out loud to no one. Since I refused to go sniffing through my dirty clothes and I feared getting hit by a car, only to have the emergency room doctor find I didn't wear underwear, I swallowed my pride and shimmied into the red thing. After I found a semi clean pair of khaki pants and a clean top, I realized that no one else would ever know that I really looked like a dork underneath it all. 

Once out of my apartment, I couldn't get to the bookstore fast enough. Forget food, checking my e-mail or grabbing a cup of coffee. If I had stopped long enough for a deep breath, I would have realized that I was losing major cool points by being so impatient. I mean, I was turning this into aerobic exercise. By the time I got there, my heart rate was in the red zone and I was breathing heavily. God, he was going to think I was some sort of overzealous stalker.

At the checkout desk, I asked if Gabe were around and the girl directed me to the children's books. I found Gabe, kneeling on the floor in front of a display for Thomas the Tank Engine and a big basket of books next to him. My hands started to move toward his shoulder as I stood close to him and I felt my fingers reach out to touch him. I snatched my hand back just in time and managed to rumble out his name. Since I hadn't spoken at all that day, I was surprised that I was at all coherent.

Gabe's head swiveled to look up at me and I fell into those leonine eyes. I swear my mouth fell open and I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears. When I heard the first words out of his mouth, I thought my heart would break. 

"Oh, I thought maybe you forgot about me."

Right then, I wanted to fall to the ground next to him and tell him how incredibly wrong he was. But trying to explain that it was thoughts of him that kept me away was just too confusing, and besides, I don't think I could talk anymore. I just shook my head and held out my hand to help him to stand. He was tall, taller than me by at least two inches. And I couldn't seem to let go of his hand. I would not be winning any awards in the 'smooth moves' category of the Dating Games today.

"Sorry," I managed to mumble. "I stayed up late, reading."

Gabe grinned at me, wide and a little goofy. It was then that I knew we were okay. Maybe now my heart could start beating normally.

"You are a nutcase." Gabe took his hand back and clapped me lightly on the shoulder. Then he said, "Buy me a cup of coffee and I'll forgive you."

**

Gabe

Work was sucking. The security alarm had gone off in the middle of the night, and the manager needed the early crew, which included me, to go over the store with a checklist and a fine tooth comb looking for possible damage. When he got to the stockroom, I was terrified that he would want to count all the new releases to make sure everything was present and accounted for. Luckily, that didn't happen. But that was where my luck ended. For my sins, I was picked for all the crap jobs that morning. Garbage and bathrooms were only the beginning. I was actually relieved when he told me to clean up children's books.

Story time might be great for kids, but it is the sixth circle of hell for bookstores. Kids are all over the place, pulling books from shelves, smearing them with God only knows what and making a racket that would wake the dead. Most of the parents disappear the minute the story-teller starts talking. They figure the kids are all occupied and they can have fifteen minutes of peace and quiet reading time. Seconds after story time starts, the café is jammed with haggard looking parents begging for coffee. When it's all over, someone has to go back to de-slime and re-shelve all the books. That's where I was when Tom (finally) came in: crouched on the floor, wiping off books and contemplating the wisdom of reproduction.

When I saw him, I'd like to say that I didn't feel a wave of relief for anxiety that I didn't realize I'd been feeling, but I did. Luckily, Tom seemed to be suffering from guilt at showing up so late and didn't notice my embarrassment. Reason spoke in the back of my mind that it wasn't like we'd made a date or anything. The man only needed to come in and pay for a book that I'd filched on his behalf.

Once in the café, I started to relax for the first time all day and was very pleasantly surprised when he came back from the counter with a truly sinful looking drink and handed it to me. I have lots of weaknesses and whipped cream with my coffee is definitely one of them. Another is a man with that barely-rolled-out-of-bed rumpled look. How could Tom look so sexy in a thermal shirt and wrinkled pants? It could have been the broad shoulders, the chocolate eyes or the apologetic smile on his face. Whatever, I was pretty much a goner.

"Thanks Tom," I said, reaching out to take the cup from Tom. "What do I owe you?"

Tom's eyebrows squeezed together. "For what?"

"The coffee, genius?" What did he think I was talking about?

"Nothing, my treat." Tom sat down next me and I started to feel relieved. If he had sat across from me, I might have thought he wanted distance, but he didn't and our knees bumped into each other. After a couple of sips of his drink, he looked into my eyes and spoke. "I kind of read that whole book last night." His sheepish look of embarrassment was adorable.

"And? What did you think?" I had been dying to talk with him about it, but since I knew he hadn't read it yet, I had contained myself. "What did you think of the end? Do you think he'll write one more to finish out the story, or do you think he'll leave us hanging with all the open questions?"

"You've read it? And you didn't say anything?" Tom just stared at me, dumbfounded. "I had no idea."

"Yeah, I was trying not to ruin the story for you. But now that we've both read it, tell me what you think."

And that was like starting an engine. Tom started talking and in the beginning he was looking at his hands as he played with his cup. After a bit though, as he got warmed up he was more animated and looked directly at me. Soon we had our heads together and were in a full-fledged discussion of the author, series and genre. Tom had told me that he liked to read, but his knowledge went way beyond that of a regular reader. At one point I called him 'Tom-pedia' to poke fun at him a little and instead of getting defensive, he blushed just a little. 

"Sorry," he apologized. "I'm kind of a geek." 

"That's okay," I replied. He shifted in his seat and his knee pushed into mine. That had happened a few times and I wondered if it was inadvertent. I hoped it wasn't, but decided not to get my hopes up. It seemed like he was getting up and I didn't want this to be over.

"Well, I should get going. I paid for the book already, so I think I'm all set." Tom held out his hand to me, and I shook it. "Thanks again, and it was nice to meet you."

With all the normal social requirements over, Tom probably could have left at this point. But he didn't, he stood behind his chair, not quite meeting my eyes. I tried looking up at him and then stood up, wondering if something was supposed to happen next. It was one of those strange, in-between moments; one of us had to take the initiative and I don't think either of us knew how. A picture of us at that moment could have been titled "What do I say, now?"

"Hey Tom?" I said. Mostly, I wanted to see his eyes. I thought if I could see the look in his eyes, I might have some idea what was going on.

"Gabe, I'm starving." Tom did look at me then and I just cracked up. What a non sequitur!

"Uh huh?"

"I think I forgot to eat dinner yesterday and I haven't eaten yet today. And I know it's not dinnertime or anything, but I think I need to eat." He was babbling now and kind of flapping his hands in a helpless way. I decided to help him out.

"How about a great dive-Mexican place I know near the University? The salsa is homemade and the margaritas are insanely good." 

A huge smile broke across his face and I felt part of my stomach flip-flop. We had solved the communication-crisis by avoiding it. Without either of us asking the other on a date, we were going out for not-dinner. The ambiguity of the whole situation cracked me up.



I Read A Lot Ch. 03



Hi. Thank you for your comments and votes. I decided to post everything I have so far. Since I like to read a longer story, I decided to post it this way and see what happens.

*

Tom

I know that I'm not the world's most articulate guy in the world, but something about Gabe had me plummeting to new depths of ineptitude. Except when we were talking about books, I was a complete idiot. Hopefully he found my inability to speak coherently endearing instead of ridiculous. Even though I could barely talk around the guy, I definitely knew I wanted more time with him.

Thank goodness he suggested dinner. The restaurant was nearly empty, which shouldn't have surprised me since the only people that ate at 4pm were looking for early-bird specials. Instead of being fazed by this, we just sat back and enjoyed a really long meal, with lots drinks. As soon as I got the menu in my hands I just wanted to try one of everything, I was so hungry. So I ordered tons and asked the waiter to just put it all on the table, family style. I hadn't actually realized that I had taken over until the waiter left and Gabe started laughing. 

"You weren't kidding about being hungry, were you?" He sat back in his chair with a very indulgent grin on his face. "You think there'll be enough for me to eat, or should I order something for myself?"

"If you're nice to me, I might let you have a bite or two." I waved a hand in his direction for emphasis. 

Pretty soon our Margaritas came and they were huge, served in these iced beer mugs. I'm not sure if it was thirst or nerves, but I downed the first one quickly. The food came and we both fell on it like starving men. Gabe may be skinny, but it definitely isn't for lack of eating. We ordered another round of drinks and in a very short while, I was feeling more relaxed than I could remember.

"Slow down, friend," I cautioned. "We can always order more,"

"Sorry man," Gabe blushed, which was completely adorable. "It's the whole starving artist thing. I haven't had a meal like this in ages"

When I asked him what he meant, he started to explain. Gabe had graduated with a B.A. in Fine Arts a few years back and really wanted to make it as a working artist. His work was pretty traditional: he enjoyed drawing, painting, and even a little sculpture. After a while, he moved to the city, away from the smaller town where his family is from, and thought maybe a wider audience would bring some success. What he hadn't counted on was more competition. There were a lot more artists trying to get by, and most of them had day jobs to support themselves, so they often priced their work below market. With rent, cost of living, student loans and supplies, Gabe had found he was in over his head and decided he had to get a job just to the pay the bills. It was a conundrum, a sort of Catch 22: if he took a job to pay the bills, then he didn't have enough time to paint, if he didn't take a job, then he couldn't keep painting at all.

"So that's how I ended up at the book store." Gabe shrugged his big shoulders and used a tortilla to sop up the last of the meaty juices on his plate. He popped the bite into his mouth and continued. "I probably could have found a better paying job, but this one is fine. I don't need a car to get around, the manager is usually pretty flexible about scheduling and I even get health insurance. That's a lot more than most artists."

"Do you miss being able to do your own work all of the time?" I was bugged that Gabe wasn't able to follow his dreams. When he talked about painting and drawing, his face had been so alive. I doubt anyone ever thought that way about a bookstore job.

"Sometimes I miss it a lot," Gabe nodded thoughtfully. "But you know, it's lonely working like that. I am alone for days working through ideas, staying up all hours. And when I'm done, I am still alone and don't have anyone to share it with. At least at the bookstore I get to talk to people and sort of 'be' in the world."

"Did days go by sometimes when you realized that you hadn't spoken out loud all day?" What Gabe had said resonated with me in ways I hadn't planned.

"Yeah, that happened a lot." Gabe looked into my eyes, searching. "Sometimes it was easier to just be by myself than try to be around other people, but I don't think it was really healthy. I mean, ideas come from discussion and activity. I don't think much creative can be made when I'm all alone and shut off."

I frowned at this statement, because I was afraid that what Gabe was saying was true not only for him. Holing up in my apartment had been working to keep me safe for so long, that I had convinced myself that I really liked it that way. But did I? I mean, I can be sort of a perfectionist, which serves me really well in my career. Somehow, relationships hadn't worked out really well for me, so I had decided a while ago to just give them a pass. Now I was sitting across from Gabe and starting to feel that maybe I was missing out on something really important in life. 

After dinner, I drove Gabe to his apartment and dragged his bike out of the back of my car. His place was an upstairs room in a big, old converted house. He said that he had chosen it because it was close, cheap and he liked all the roof angles inside. We shook hands and I was glad he didn't thank me for dinner, because I would have been embarrassed. It couldn't have escaped his notice that I had paid the bill while he was in the bathroom at the restaurant, but luckily he did not make a comment. I couldn't have said why I did it: was this a date, did I feel sorry for him? I had no idea. 

When I was back in the car, I realized that we hadn't made any plans to see each other again and we hadn't traded phone numbers. It looked like it would be up to me to make the next move, if there was going to be one. Instead of thinking through what I wanted to do next, or how I felt about Gabe, I sank into my big couch as soon as I got home. In minutes, the outside world was miles away and I was comfortable in a fantasy world complete with a wizard, a predictable romance and a quest for something-or-other.

It wasn't until Wednesday that I let myself think about Gabe again. Late in the afternoon, my cell beeped to tell me that I had a new text message. It was from my best friend, Henry and it said: 'Frisbee?' The weather had been getting warmer in the last weeks and the ground was probably dry enough to play. So it seemed that our Frisbee team would start its new spring practice schedule. In the past, we would gather at this huge, empty park every Thursday and play until the softball teams got tired of us goofing around. Everyone and their boyfriends and girlfriends, wives and husbands all came out to the park and then to a great pizza place for dinner and a beer.

That was when a picture of Gabe flashed through my mind. 

Our big group of friends had been pairing off in recent years and actually gotten larger; some couples were now married and a few were even starting families. I had always been a single man in the crowd, never bringing someone special to introduce because I hadn't had anyone that special in my life. Now, after only one non-date I had the urge to ask Gabe to join me. It was crazy and impulsive, not at all like me.

Before I could think too much, I called the bookstore and asked for Gabe. Whoever answered the phone put me on hold and it was then that I considered chewing off my left thumbnail out of nervousness. What did I think I was doing? I wasn't even sure that he was gay. Maybe we could be friends?

"This is Gabe." His voice sounded so assured.

"Hey Gabe, this is Tom." I tried not to stammer, though I was positive I broke out in a sweat. "We . . ."

"Hi Tom," Gabe replied. His smile seemed to come right through the phone.

I explained all about Frisbee and where we met and finally asked if he'd like to come. Since I don't really share my private side at work, I kept my voice a little low.

"Do you want me to play on the team?" Gabe sounded a little confused.

"Um no, not exactly. I thought you might to get out and have some pizza afterwards?" If this had been high school, I would have been kicking the dirt and looking at the ground. I had somehow thought that by being gay, I had avoided all the awkwardness of dating.

"Would it just be the two of us?"

"Well, no," I answered. I hoped that was the right answer. I mean, if he wanted it to be just the two of us, it would be fine. Really, I was terrified that if I said too much, I would just start babbling like an idiot and he would hang up the phone, thinking I was some kind socially inept freak. I breathed deeply and tried to continue, "It would be all the Frisbee people, my friends. Does that sound okay? 'Cause if you don't want to, you won't hurt my feelings." I lied there, big time.

"It sounds fun. And thanks for asking." 

We traded numbers and e-mail so I could give him directions. After I hung up the phone, I just stared at it for the longest time trying to regain my composure. So many thoughts and feelings were running around my head, I felt like one of those cartoons with bluebirds circling.

**

Gabe 

It could be a date, it might just be friends. Don't get worked up until something happens. I kept repeating this to myself, over and over until Thursday evening finally arrived. 

Tom had been so adorably nervous on the phone, it made me want to hug him. It was obvious to me that he was interested in me, attracted, but I wasn't sure if he was gay, or if he knew he was gay or where he stood on the whole rainbow spectrum. At the moment, I couldn't have cared less, I had a quasi-date and a promise of good pizza.

Since I was riding my bike and I wasn't exactly sure just where this park was, I made sure to leave plenty of time to get there. The park lay at the bottom of a hill and was a wide, pure expanse of spring green-velvet grass. As I came to the top of the hill and started coasting down, I could see the players and the spectators off to one end. It was hard to miss Tom: all dark hair and big shoulders. As I watched, he snatched a disc out of the air, planted his feet, pivoted and flung the disc away to another team member. His movements had been quick, precise and fluid; and he took my breath away.

Either the practice was running late or I really had been early, because the Frisbee team continued to work for at least another fifteen minutes. I eased my way over to the large knot of people watching and soon stood among them and listened as they made comments and talked amongst themselves.

"Hi, I'm Amy," a perky blond woman next to me said, as introduction. "Are you interested in playing? We could use someone with your height."

"No, I don't play," I shook my head. "A friend invited me to drop by and hang out after practice. I'm just a little early." I was trying to play this casual, since I had no idea what I meant to Tom.

"My husband is Henry," Amy looked out onto the field and pointed out a thin, wiry man who seemed to be watching the players intently. "He's a little nervous because he'll be captain on Saturday and it'll be the first game this spring. 

"They seem a little loose, but since everyone else is coming off of a long winter, don't you think they'll be fine?" I tried to reassure her.

"Thank you. That is almost exactly what I said to him. It's not like everyone else had spring training in Arizona for Rec. League Ultimate. But he and his best friend, Tom get a little into it, you know?" Amy tilted her head up to look up to me. She had a long way to look too, since she was about a foot shorter than I was.

"I might be starting to," I replied. "Tom is the friend that invited me along tonight. We just met last week." I let this info sink in so I could see Amy's reaction. Mostly I was curious and wanted to know if Tom might have mentioned me. 

Dating and romance never seemed much different from the way it was in high school, at least in the early stages. One person always wants to know if the other likes them as a friend, or more than a friend. And no one wants to risk the pain of rejection by asking directly. Growing up, I had often heard my big sisters play the "He said-She said" game. Now I was trying it out on Amy. I didn't know if I was being devious or cowardly.

Amy smiled kindly at me and said that she was really glad I was able to join them. It was a totally ambiguous answer to my non-question, and I probably deserved it for trying to be sly. 

As other people milled around, Amy stayed near me and we chatted easily about little in particular. She seemed to know everyone and introduced me to people when they came over to talk and catch up. I noticed that she introduced me as 'Tom's friend' instead of 'a friend of Tom's.' My pea brain ran with that twist until the end of the practice.

As soon as the players left the field, Tom made his way over to me. He was a little sweaty, though the weather was still cool, and took off his shirt to switch it for a clean one he took out of a nearby gym bag. When he stripped off his shirt, I was suddenly glad we were in a group of people in public. It is possible that I gawked and swallowed hard, but I don't think I actually embarrassed myself. Had we been in private, I might have been much more tempted to reach out and touch him. Tom's chest was broad and well defined, with nice dark, curly chest hair that begged me to comb it through my fingers. Before I could even begin to gaze at Tom's abs, he cleared his throat and caught my eyes.

I was completely busted checking him out, and I just hoped that he wasn't offended. Tom stood next to me and as he slipped his head through the clean shirt I could hear his deep voice. "See anything you like?"

I blushed beet red and turned away so he wouldn't see my mortification. Then I heard, "You're cute when you blush, you know?" 

That's when I turned back and glared at him a little. "Did you do that on purpose, that little show?"

"Not really, but I'm glad of the reaction." Tom's smile lit up his entire face. "Now come on, so I can introduce you to everyone before we go over to Tonio's."

"Amy took care of that already, but I doubt I'll be able to remember all the names." We began strolling towards a large group of people.

"Amy's great," said Tom. "A little nosy maybe, but great."

"She didn't seem nosy, just friendly," I replied.

Tom rolled his eyes and said, "Just you wait. She'll have your mother's maiden name and favorite color out of you by the time the pizza arrives."

And he was right. Amy made the Mossad look like amateur interrogators.

**

Tom

Damn but did Gabe look fine. He held onto his bike with one hand and casually gestured with the other as he talked. With his height and long limbs, he looked positively Gatsby. If he had been wearing tennis whites instead of khaki shorts, the picture could have been complete. I had been a blind fool not to think him gorgeous right away.

I had noticed him standing near Amy, talking and laughing. He looked totally at ease, which was a relief. If it were me, I don't know that I would have the courage to meet a bunch of his friends this close to the beginning of . . . whatever this was.

When it was time to wrap up, I struggled to remain calm and not act like a nervous dork. Things between us were still uncertain. Maybe he just wanted to come outside on a nice night and enjoy some pizza. Until I knew for certain that he might be interested in me, I needed to keep a lid on my emotions. No sense getting my hopes up if I didn't have a chance.

Taking my shirt off wasn't supposed to be a ruse, but it sure worked like a charm. Gabe's reaction was priceless. He stared and blushed and his eyes maybe even bugged out a little. I'm not some gym rat, but I do try to stay in shape. And Gabe's response was all the motivation I needed to keep working out! 

If there hadn't been so many people around, I would have kissed him right there. At least I had a couple of answers: definitely gay and interested. 

At the restaurant, Amy made sure to sit next to Gabe on the long padded seat in the rear of the restaurant. I had known she would, since she had to get the scoop on Gabe and me. Since there wasn't anything between us, I figured she couldn't do much damage. Internally I cringed, but knew I was helpless to stop her. It wasn't that Amy was being rude, exactly the opposite. This was how she got to know people. 

While Amy started her questioning, Henry and I went up to the bar to order a couple of pitchers. Henry was a man of many fewer words than his wife, so he just got straight to the point.

"Gabe seems like a nice guy. Are you two together?" Henry asked without flinching.

"Maybe," I answered. "It's a little new yet. But I like him."

"Well you're a brave man to let Amy have a go at him. That woman is a force to be reckoned with." Henry shook his head, but looked over at his wife with obvious love. "He looks like he's holding up just fine."

The evening went far more smoothly than I could've hoped. I sat next to Gabe with Henry across the table from us and we caught up on all the news we hadn't shared in a while. Sometimes, Amy even let me talk with Gabe a little. Even though she had his attention, our bodies were close: hip to hip and just his proximity was enough for me. 

When we were all done and getting ready to go our separate ways, Amy and Gabe were busy exchanging cell numbers, Henry spoke to me quietly. "I think Amy's in love with him."

"That's fine as long as she keeps her hands off." I narrowed my eyes at him. He got the joke and chuckled.

"She's a little protective of you, you know. But you're safe, because she likes him. I'm glad you brought him with you, and I hope we didn't scare him off."

"Thanks man," I said and I squeezed his shoulder. 

We all waved good bye and dispersed once out of the restaurant. Gabe had to unlock his bike, but he didn't just jump on and ride away. On the way back to my car we talked a little bit. Our conversation was a little awkward and nervous, but since I was usually nervous around people, it wasn't a big deal. He told me that he had tried questioning Amy, and found that she was open to answering lots of his questions. So, instead of it being a one sided grilling, he had learned a lot about her, too.

"You have really great friends," Gabe said looking at me and pausing. "I hope I passed."

I laughed out loud. "Actually, I think I'm the one who finally passed. Amy was convinced I was completely incapable of finding someone."

"Oh, and how many 'someone's' has Amy interviewed?" Gabe asked archly.

I coughed at this and turned to start walking again. "None," I answered. "You're the only one she's ever met." 

**

Gabe

'Okay,' I thought, 'that was a minor bombshell.' Now, what was I supposed to do with it? But before I had formulated any sort of plan, we stood next to Tom's car. He turned to me and loosely laced his fingers with mine. While I took a moment to look into his eyes, I felt his thumb dance little circles on the inside of my wrist. That little bit of contact had my heart racing.

"Is this okay?" Tom asked in a rough voice. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I like this." I said. Uncomfortable? I had wanted to touch him all evening long. He could have kissed me in front of the entire Frisbee team and I wouldn't have flinched. But I realized that asking me out to meet his friends and holding my hand were steps for him and me, too. Since I felt surer that I wouldn't face rejection, I decided to help things along a bit. "Do you have any time this weekend? I have to work tomorrow and Saturday, but I'm free on Sunday."

Tom grimaced and said, "I'm having dinner at Henry and Amy's house. It's a semi tradition to make sure that I eat decent food once in a while."

"Oh," I said. 




I Read A Lot Ch. 03



"You could come with me?" Tom asked softly. "You would have to put up with more questions, but it's usually worth it. Amy is a really good cook."

I looked into his eyes to see if he was just being polite by asking me to join him, or if maybe he really wanted me to say yes. What I saw was someone who was a little afraid I would say no, but hoping I wouldn't. When I nodded and smiled, he smiled broadly and I thought that he had gotten twice as good looking. Part of me really wanted to kiss him, even though we were standing outside in public. Mostly, I think I wanted to be kissed. I'm not that comfortable initiating, so I was hoping that Tom might move in a little and start something. Instead, he offered to drive me home, but the evening was too perfect, and I kind of wanted the exercise to clear my head.

Painting and drawing has always been a kind of escape for me. When I'm in the middle of an idea and I'm working it out on canvas or paper, I can be lost in my own world for hours. Sometimes I like to be very representational: I can get totally absorbed drawing a still life of dirty dishes and half-crumpled newspapers on the kitchen table. Other times, something about an image or thought captures my imagination and I will just explore that without trying to make the image look like anything in particular. That kind of work feels a lot like when I read poetry: impressions and images combine to shed light on something.

When I'm in the middle of a really productive phase, I don't pay much attention to the rest of the world around me. I kind of forget to eat, I sleep when I can't stand up anymore, the phone rings but I don't hear it. 

That night after leaving Tom, I picked up my big sketch pad and just started drawing. I didn't have any plan or aim to my drawing and I doubt that anyone but me would have any idea what it was I was trying to get down on paper. Flash images kept coming to me and I was trying to capture them before another sped through my brain. It felt like I was trying to take dictation from my memory.

At some point, my roommate Sandra and her boyfriend came home and talked to me for a bit, but I didn't remember anything they said. Later I heard some noises from her room and realized that they were making love. After that it was quiet and my mind became very focused until I suddenly saw from the window that it was getting light outside. I had to be at the bookstore in four hours and hadn't slept at all. 

Closing my sketchpad, I finally stopped and went into my room. Since this is something that has happened before, I have heavy shades on my windows and this was a time I needed them. With the room totally dark, I stripped and crawled into bed. I was going to be a little rough around the edges for the rest of the day, but the amazing feeling of working so long left me floating.

By the time Sunday evening rolled around, I felt I had basically recovered from my drawing binge. I was outside of my own head enough to be able to talk to people and I'd had enough sleep that I wasn't yawning constantly. Sandra had been making snide remarks about my strange hours and how hard it was living with an oblivious artist. I bit my tongue not to shoot back some snarky replay about administrative assistants. Honestly, I had little defense, I'm sure it was hard to understand to people who didn't love what they did so much that time stopped moving.

Tom showed up fifteen minutes early. Well, I thought it was early; he insisted that he was on time, in order to get to Henry and Amy's at the right time. My hair was wet, I hadn't picked out a shirt and I had no idea where my decent shoes had gone to. I sort of scowled at him when I complained about not knowing what to wear and he laughed at me and walked into my room to my closet. I barely knew the guy and he was about to pick out my clothes? I don't think so! It made me want to wear something totally opposite, just to be contrary. But he found a long sleeve shirt in soft blue I had totally forgotten about and he was right, it was perfect. I'd find a way to get back at him later.

***

Tom

Taking Gabe to Henry and Amy's for dinner felt oddly like taking my boyfriend home to meet my folks. In a way, it was probably as close as I would ever get. Henry and Amy were so much like my family that I hardly even missed mine anymore. 

Henry had been my friend for so long that we can't remember when we started hanging out with each other. After college, I could have moved anywhere with a job offer, but I knew that Henry was going to stick around and so I made the effort to stay close. Once I started my job, I met Amy. She was a year older and so energetic, she made my head dizzy. One evening, a bunch of us went out for drinks and Henry joined us. I had only been bugging him for weeks to come. Since he had started graduate school, he was so busy studying, he was in serious danger of becoming a hermit. But my bugging paid off. I casually introduced the two of them and then went off to play darts until I was sure they were thoroughly into each other. That was five years ago and they have been married for almost four.

In lots of ways, Amy likes to pretend she's my Mom, and since I don't really have anyone to fill that role, I sometimes let her. Sunday dinners were a way to make sure that I ate a few vegetables and gave her a chance to question me about my personal life. I knew that bringing Gabe to dinner was a little like bringing a lamb to the slaughter, and I felt bad about that. Yet, I had this crazy idea that Henry and Amy might like Gabe as much as I did. Or as much as I think I was beginning to.

Never having 'dated' anyone before, I was a little unprepared for Gabe not to be ready to go when I got to his place. I'm used to meetings, schedules, and deadlines. So when I saw him wandering around dreamily wondering what to wear, I was totally taken off guard. Part of me wanted to remind him of the value of punctuality, like he was a college intern at work. Then when I allowed myself to see the vision of his bare chest and feet standing in front of me, hair wet and messy, I had a hard time not locking his bedroom door and pushing him onto the bed. Promising myself that I might try a little of that later, I opted for handing him a clean shirt so we could get going.

After driving through town a while and finally finding a parking spot, we walked the short distance to Henry and Amy's place. They lived in an old brick apartment building that was three stories high and had been turned into condos years before. The red brick building only had three condos, each taking up an entire floor. Gabe raised his eyebrows a little when we went inside. It wasn't posh, but it was well-kept up.

"I love this old place," I said as we walked up the stairs to the top floor. 

Gabe was looking around a little. "It's out of a different era, isn't it? Fantastic that no-one has ever modernized the character out of it."

Once at the top, we could see that the door was already open, which usually meant that the couple were expecting more guests.

"Henry," I shouted in mock bewilderment. "Where are you?"

I soon saw him come out of the front study with a phone at his ear. He looked stern and concerned, which when combined with his narrow face and knife-edged features looked a little intimidating. 

"No, I heard every word you said," Henry said into the phone. "It's just been a long time since we saw you and I think maybe we should spend some time together." More listening, and Henry just stood by us. "Yeah, that's fine Scott. I understand. I'll tell Amy. Okay, bye." Henry beeped off the phone and heaved a huge sigh.

"What?" I said. "Is he coming late?"

"Nope," Henry responded. "Not coming." Then he put aside that whole mess and turned to Gabe to welcome him. "But you came and that more than makes up for it. I was hoping that maybe this time I would get a chance to talk with you a little, since Amy completely monopolized your time at the bar. Come on into the kitchen and we'll have a beer and watch Amy work. It drives her crazy to be seen as the little woman." Henry winked and led the way.

In the kitchen, Amy looked like a conductor of a culinary orchestra. Pots steamed, vegetables sat patiently and the room had the feeling that something big was about to begin. Amy rubbed her hands on her apron and bounded over to me to give me a big welcome-hug. Then she gifted Gabe with the exact same hug.

"Oh thank god you're here," she said, pushing her hair from her brow. "It's getting down to crunch time and I could use your help, Tom. Henry won't chop onions, so I saved that for you. I know we're only five tonight . . ."

"Four," Henry interrupted. He shot her a meaningful look as he stepped up and handed out the beers.

"He cancelled?" She asked with awe in her voice. "The bastard cancelled?"

"Gabe and I are going to get out of the hot zone while you and Tom finish up," Henry kissed her cheek and left with Gabe.

"What's going on, Amy?" I asked. As I listened, I went to the hook by the fridge and grabbed my usual apron. Amy never felt entirely comfortable unless she had someone to order around, so on Sundays, I stepped up to the plate.

"It's Jen and Scott," Amy said and she looked totally bereft and on the verge of tears. "I think he might be cheating on her and I don't know what to do."

And with that, I pulled out a stool for Amy, set her on it and got to chopping. While I worked, she occasionally stopped so she could tell me the next thing to do, otherwise, I just let her talk. Not normally an emotional woman, Amy's reaction was unusually strong. At one point, I got a clean dish towel so she could wipe her eyes. She tried to tell me it was the onions, but I knew better.

Jen had been Amy's roommate freshman year of college and they had immediately bonded. They had been best friends for almost ten years, and they shared everything. Jen and Scott had been together since High School and eventually they got married. Now Jen was trying to finish up her PhD and had was spending the semester on Africa doing research.

"I've been skyping with Jen and she is crazy upset. Scott cancelled his plans to visit her in Ghana. He says he just too busy."

"Oh Christ," I said and laid down my knife for effect. And with that Amy started crying again.

"Henry," I called. "Get in here, man. Your wife is leaking."

Then Amy started laughing through her tears. Henry came in and hugged her and we all started laughing. There was no way I was going to spend the day with my friends talking about some jackass, so I was very glad when we all changed the subject and just had a good time together. We talked, laughed and had a relaxing time. I decided to be bold and at the end of the meal, I moved my chair a little closer to Gabe's and put my hand on the back of his chair.

"I propose," Amy said with a raised finger and a look of inspiration. "I propose that we walk to Bella's for dessert. I want chocolate!"

Bella's was this amazing bakery/café that was unfairly located close to Henry and Amy's place. They had the most amazing mousse and gelato and tarts and, and, and. We grabbed our jackets, since it was still early spring and a little chilly, and started to walk towards decadence. Up ahead of Gabe and I, Amy and Henry walked hand-in-hand. I had an impulse to grab Gabe's hand, but quashed it since I didn't think we were quite at the "public displays of affection" stage. 

The café was a busy with folks who all had the same idea. Inside it was warm and fragrant with sweet smells and coffee aroma. When I asked Gabe what he wanted from the case, I saw him staring at a small sign.

"Do you think they mean it?" Gabe indicated the call for artists. It looked like the café wanted to encourage young artists to display their work at the café.

"Well, sure they mean it," I responded. I didn't understand what his point was. Then a brain wave flashed through my head. "Are you thinking that you might be able to show your work?"

"I don't know," Gabe said with humility. "This place kind of has a reputation for not taking just anyone's work."

"Really," I said. "I mean, I know the food is fantastic and I've always noticed the art, but it has a rep?"

"Um, yeah," Gabe replied, finally meeting my eyes. "What if my stuff isn't good enough?"

I stared at him, at a total loss for words. Most of all, I wanted to reassure him that of course he was good enough, better than good enough. But I had never seen any of Gabe's artwork; he had never asked me to, so I couldn't be any sort of judge. Just then, it was our turn to order so I turned to speak to the counter-guy.

"May I ask how I would inquire about displaying artwork here?" I asked after I ordered. I felt Gabe grab the back of my sleeve.

"Are you an artist?" the counter guy asked. It could have been my imagination, but I thought he looked at me dubiously.

"No, not me," I replied. "My friend is interested in finding a venue for his work and wondered who he should contact." Gabe had no choice but to smile at the guy and look confident.

"Isabelle chooses the artwork. She's in the back right now," the counter guy indicated the back of the café. "I can see if she'd be available to talk with you, if you'd like?"

Gabe tried to talk, but his first attempt didn't make it out of his throat. He cleared it and tried again. "That would be very kind, but only if she isn't too busy."

The guy smiled a little too warmly at Gabe for my liking, but I let it go. If a bit of harmless flirtation got Gabe an opportunity to show his work, then all the better.

"I will murder you later Tom," Gabe grumbled into my ear as we came to our table. 

I was carrying our dessert, a napoleon and a fruit tart, along with coffee. "Be nice or I'll eat your dessert," I said back and grinned at him. His smirk wasn't lost on Amy.

"Okay," she said. "How could you two be fighting already?"

"Tom decided to embarrass me," Gabe said. He explained the whole exchange, leaving out the flirting. 

As we talked it over and ate like gluttons, Gabe seemed to relax a little and maybe he even forgave me a little. Just as I was thinking about licking my plate to get every last molecule of napoleon, I noticed a small woman in a white apron walk towards our table.

Isabelle was one of those rare people who have so much energy that it seems to spill out of them and fill up the space around them. She came to us and immediately introduced herself. Though she couldn't have been much more than five feet tall, she exuded the strength and personality of a giantess. I doubt her stature was the first thing anyone who had met her would have talked about when they described her. 

Within minutes of the introductions, Isabelle and Gabe were deep in discussion about God only knows what. It was like they were in their own world, with their own language. Instead of being jealous that Gabe had found this woman with whom he could talk so easily, I decided to be happy for him. It wasn't often that anyone is understood so quickly and easily, and I had the feeling that I was witnessing the birth of a real friendship.

After a bit, I got up and refilled our coffee cups. Henry and Amy had left, explaining that Amy was tired and wanted to lie down for a while. When I got back to the table, I handed Gabe his coffee and sat down. I had tried to sit a little apart, to give him and Isabelle some space, but Gabe looked over at me and frowned. He held out his hand for me to hold and pulled me closer to him. This totally shocked me, since Gabe had yet to initiate contact, but I wasn't going to question him now. I sat next to him while he talked to Isabelle, holding hands and sipping coffee and I thought I had just landed in heaven.

Since Isabelle had a million things to do (and after meeting her, I think that may have been the literal truth) our stay in the café didn't last much longer. She and Gabe had arranged that he would bring over some things for her to look at during the week and then she bounded off. Gabe sat for a minute in dazed silence, still holding my hand. When he turned his head to look at me, his amber-lion eyes sparkled with ideas.

"I think," he said in his low-quiet voice. "I think I won't kill you." Then he lifted our joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of my knuckles. 

My eyes locked on Gabe's and I squeezed his hand. I had no intention of letting go, now that I had even a small part of him.

***

Gabe 

The following days flew by a ridiculous blur; all I could do was paint and work. Since I still had to be able to pay my bills, I went to work at the bookstore, but I was completely distracted the whole time. My manager understood and tried to give me tasks that required as little attention as possible, so mostly I was at the register. I had shown Isabelle some drawings and a few completed works right after our initial meeting and she was excited to have my show up in only a couple of weeks. It was tight timing, but I was convinced I could do it.

If it hadn't been for Tom, I think I would have either starved or gone crazy. 

My roommate, Sandra, had already been kind of uptight about my work, and this new binge of mine was looking like it would send her right over the edge. Since the apartment had been hers first, she considered the place more her apartment and treated me like I was renting a room from her. We had met through an ad on Craigslist. I figured that if I paid half the rent, then I should be allowed to use half the apartment. That was where we clashed. It was fine if I 'used' the rest of the apartment as long as I left it looking exactly like she liked it: tidy and pristine with arranged throw pillows on the couch. I think she thought that since I was gay and an artist, I would be sensitive to all that stuff. Oops.

There was no way I could only paint and draw in my room. First off, to stay cooped up in one small room all the time would drive me bonkers, like Van-Gogh bonkers. Secondly, my tiny bedroom had terrible light. The dining room, on the other hand, had almost-okay light. So that's where I proposed to do most of my work, in the dining room. Since Sandra never actually used the room, except to walk from the living room to the kitchen, I thought this would be a non-issue. Wrong! And when I said it would be impossible to clean up all my things every day to stow them in my room, all she could do was pout and storm around.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, trying to think up either a solution or a really good comeback, when Tom called. I flipped open my cell phone and probably sounded like a sulking kid.

"Hey Tom," I greeted.

"Gabe," Tom said in a cheering voice. "Are you done at the store? If you want, I could come over and get you? Maybe we could grab a bite to eat before you get started on your real work?"

Aw, that was so sweet. Tom's thoughtfulness pulled my mind away from the negative thoughts I had been having. "I got off a little early, and I just got home. But I haven't eaten yet." Before I could suggest that I could make him something, he spoke in my ear.

"I'll be over in a little bit to take you out." Tom said. "I won't keep you from your work, but we both need to eat. I just need to shut down my computer, pack up and I'll be over, okay?"

After a few more words, we were off the phone and I sighed happily. Dinner out was just what I needed. And the more I thought about it, Tom was beginning to be what I needed. At least, he seemed to be who I wanted. But I couldn't quite tell if I was who he wanted. We got along great together: talked, laughed and truly enjoyed each other's company. The couple of times he had held my hand, I got all bubbly inside. When he had dropped me off last Sunday, after dinner at his friends' house, I think I wanted him to kiss me. But he hardly made a move, except for a great full-body hug. The question in my mind was: what did Tom want, and what would he do about it? Could it be possible that he was shy? There was no way I was ready to put myself out there just to get the romantic smack-down.




I Read A Lot Ch. 03



All this floated through my mind as I brushed my teeth and found a clean shirt to wear. Tonight, I definitely didn't want Tom to find me shirtless and in my bedroom. I figured that too many times of that would look like an invitation for a lot more than I was ready to consider. 

Over dinner at this fabulous Middle Eastern restaurant, Tom and I eventually got onto the topic of my roommate. He admitted that he enjoyed having his own place and even when he was in school and couldn't really afford it, he had always tried to live on his own.

"Why is that?" I asked curiously. Tom seemed so laid back and easy-going to me, hardly the type of problem roommate.

Tom had just taken and enormous bite of his food and motioned to me to give him a minute. He looked kind of cute, waving with his hand and trying to chew without choking. After a sip of his soda, he said, "my freshman-year roommate said I was too anti-social. I would study or read and then go hang out with friends. But I didn't really like to sit around just shoot the shit. I was 'too intense'." And Tom frowned a little.

"That sounds normal, too me. But then maybe I'm a freak, too." I tried to reassure him by telling him how I like to work, how I get caught up in what I'm doing and lose track of time. "I have to set alarm clocks, to make sure that I don't forget to go to work. I've done that before and used to get into trouble."

"I can totally relate," Tom agreed, nodding his head and smiling. "When I'm in the middle of a book, I can stay up all night to finish it, if I'm not careful."

Instead of feeling strange and awkward, the more I shared with Tom, and he with me, the better I felt about myself. Maybe I wasn't such a weird guy, after all.

After we finished the meal and sat in his car, I said innocently, "I wish I were your roommate, instead of Sandra's."

And Tom just stared at me, like one of those cartoon characters that had a stone drop on their head: kind of mouth-open.

"Okay," Tom said in a voice even softer and lower than usual.

"Tom," I laughed. "I was kidding."

"Oh," he said in a small disappointed tone. 

'Okay, what in the hell was that about?' my brain screamed. 

I didn't have too much time to wonder what Tom was thinking though, because he chose that moment to put his hand to the back of my neck and gently pull me in for a kiss. Before our lips met, he brushed his nose with mine a little and whispered, "Maybe moving in together isn't really the next logical step." Then he angled his head just enough and pressed his mouth to mine.

My head swam with emotion and sensation. Kissing the wrong person can disastrous and embarrassing: messy, slobbery and awkward. This was none of those things. By instinct, Tom seemed to know exactly how to move, when to deepen the kiss. After his mouth opened a bit, I felt the tip of his tongue move across my bottom lip and then he sucked it tenderly into his mouth. I think I made some sort of noise at that point and Tom's left hand moved to my thigh and he tried to move closer to me. As we continued to kiss and taste, our hands lightly drifted over one another. I could barely believe how amazing he felt, how he made me feel. There was only one small issue: the front seat of his car wasn't the ideal location for serious action. Finally Tom broke the kissing with a growl of frustration.

Both of us were breathing a little fast and we sat in the front of his car with our foreheads pressed together. "What took you so long?" I managed to get out at last. "I wasn't sure if you liked me."

With a chuckle, Tom pulled back and stared at me like I was a loon. Then he shifted in his seat to rearrange himself and try to accommodate his erection. "Gabe," he said hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to come on too strong, scare you away. But I definitely like you."

Now it was my turn to chuckle. "Yeah, I get that now." And then just to be funny, I wiggled around to adjust myself. 

With a big sigh, Tom rubbed a hand over his face and looked out the windshield. "I need to get you home. That or I might abduct you."

"You're not really a 'middle-path' kind of guy are you?" When he looked at me questioningly, I went on. "I think there is probably something we can do between abandoning me and abducting me. How about instead, you come back with me and keep me company. I'm sure I have a few books you haven't read. And if I get enough work done, you can help distract me."

A huge smile broke over his face, "I like the way you think!" He started the car and we were quickly back at my place.

That night after I showed Tom around and got him settled on the couch with a few books, I finally got down to some serious work. Earlier in the day before my job, I had laid out the bones of a painting I had in my head. Now I was able to turn on my work lights and really get down to business. From where Tom was, he would be able to see exactly what I was doing, and O considered moving my easel, in order to prevent his view. In the past, I never really liked people seeing my work until it was done and I felt ready to show it. Somehow with Tom there, I really didn't feel the need to hide, so I left the easel where it was. I could tell that occasionally he would look up and check out what I was doing, but I didn't mind. 

That night set up a pattern for the rest of the time I was working on the show. Sometimes Tom would take me out to dinner, or pick up some take out, or he would cook something simple at my place. Then he would settle in for a long evening's read-a-thon. In between, there would be kissing. I think he enjoyed the kissing parts the most. 

Having Tom around while I worked was a lot more enjoyable than I thought it could be. In the beginning, I was all ready for his presence to be annoying, or stifling, or it would make me feel self-conscious. Inside my head, I had all these imaginary discussions where I would try to tell him nicely to buzz off and let me get my crap done. They went sort of like, 'I like having you around, but . . .' Somehow, I never needed to have that conversation. Tom actually made me feel more comfortable and at ease, even in my own so-called home.

A huge bonus to Tom hanging around was that my roommate, Sandra, seemed afraid of him. That's probably an overstatement, but she was at least a little intimidated by him. When he was in the apartment, she generally stayed in her room or the kitchen. More likely than not though, he just spent time with her boyfriend at his place. It wasn't that Tom was ever rude to her, he wasn't. But neither was he particularly friendly. Mostly I think Tom was oblivious. 

When he first started coming over, Sandra tried to make polite conversation, but since Tom doesn't really see the need for small talk, it didn't get very far. Then once she tried joking with him about what an impossible roommate I was with my supplies all over the place. That just seemed to rile him up and he started to defend me to her. His obvious admiration for my abilities and his protectiveness made me feel all warm inside. He got some extra good kissing that night.

And kissing was as far as we had gone. At first, I was a little stumped by the lack of 'progression' in our contact. Every night before he went home, we spent at least a little time tangling tongues, but he never tried to take it much further. I know that there aren't rules about these things and I could have initiated a little more action. It wasn't like Tom would have said 'no'. Instead, I just let things progress at their own pace, curious to see what would happen.

One night near the end of the two weeks, I had just finished a piece and I was feeling really excited and a little bit antsy. Completing projects gives me the sensation of climbing a mountain or winning a race. There are probably endorphins involved and scientific explanations aplenty. I just knew that I felt great and I wanted to share that feeling with someone. As luck would have it, a very sexy someone happened to be on my couch at that very minute. I sneaked up on him and basically pounced.

"Ungh!" Tom grunted when I surprised him by landing on his chest. He set his book face down on the floor and looked at me. I was grinning. He said. "Does that mean you're ready to play?"

"Yep," I replied and I nodded vigorously. "I definitely want to play." With that, I shimmied the rest of my way up his body, feeling every inch of his legs, torso and chest. Then I leaned in and started kissing him as I moved on top of him. Without realizing it, I ground my hips into his and rubbed myself against his groin. This wasn't something I had planned, but I don't think my body and my brain were connected at that moment.

Tom rolled onto his side and pulled me next to him so my back was against the couch. I liked the new position because I could look into his eyes more easily. If I put my hand against his neck, I felt his rapid pulse. His body gave the sense of barely contained power, tense but ready to spring into action at any moment. And I was a little surprised at how erotic I found this. After kissing for a bit, I could feel the intensity of our contact escalate and I was pretty sure we were at the edge of a new level. A while ago, I had decided that I would like to have sex with Tom. Now it seemed like he was having the same idea. He nudged his top leg between my knees and rubbed his thigh up under my balls. I groaned and pushed into him further. Tom took that as acquiescence and pulled my leg up over his and held it to him at his hip pressed into me and he kissed me breathless.

Tom moved his head to my ear and whispered, "What do you want, Gabe? I need to know what you want." His hand moved inside the waistband of my pants and squeezed one globe of my ass.

It seemed pretty obvious to me what I wanted, so I rubbed against his thigh a little to make sure he understood my intent.

A low chuckle rumbled in my ear. "Yeah, but what then?"

"How about we just take it one step at a time and see what happens?" I answered. Crap. Tom had asked the million-dollar question, the one I had never been able to answer. I pushed my lips to his as a way of changing the subject.

"Um, excuse me," Sandra's voice floated into my consciousness. 

"Shit," Tom whispered and his vehement tone matched my feelings exactly. He moved only his head and directed his next words to Sandra. "Hey Sandra, what do you need?"

Despite the obvious edge to Tom's question, Sandra persisted. "Actually, I want to talk with Gabe for a few minutes, if you don't mind." 

Before Tom could shoot back some comment that wouldn't make my living arrangement any easier, I put a calming hand on Tom's arm and said, "Down tiger, it's okay. I'll talk with her."

I looked over Tom to meet Sandra's eyes and saw uneasiness and anger there. I tried to use a neutral voice and said, "Give me a minute, okay Sandra? I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Sandra left the room and Tom and I disentangled our limbs enough to sit up on the couch. I wanted nothing more than to pull Tom back down and continue where we had left off, but I knew the magic of the moment had been broken, at least for tonight.

Tom found his jacket and pulled his keys out of his pocket as he headed for the door. As he walked out, he turned, took my and pulled me in for a last kiss. Before our lips met I heard his words, "see you again?"

I pulled back just far enough to be heard. "Are you still willing to help me paint and hang the show after Frisbee? I'll treat you to pizza." I tried to tempt him with the promise of dinner.

Tom pecked me on the lips and said, "Yes to the first question and no-you-won't to the second. Now I'm going to scurry out of here like the coward I am and let you get yelled at for getting caught making out on the couch."

With that, Tom winked, turned and went down the stairs.

**

Tom

I really didn't want to admit that Sandra had done me any favors by interrupting Gabe and I on the couch, but really she had. If she hadn't charged in, I don't think we would have stopped until we were both naked and stated. And while I would have cheered for that kind of release, I don't think I was ready for the fallout that comes with impulsive actions. 

Someone in college had once joked that I would have to plan ahead before I spontaneously combusted. 

Until now, I had never even considered a serious relationship. My past experiences had definitely been casual in nature. It wasn't that I thought there was anything wrong with long-term partners, or that I didn't want one, I just hadn't met anyone that triggered those kinds of feelings in me. Now that I had, I knew that casual was not going to be enough.

From our conversations, I knew Gabe experiences were at least a little different from mine. He called them 'flings' which sounds so carefree, but baffled me. He had been friends with his previous lovers first and then they seemed to just evolve into more than friends. After they split, he seemed to go back to being friends with them. When we talked, he never seemed to regret is relationships and he never seemed to have wanted anything else than what he'd had. What I didn't know was what he wanted now, with me.

The more time I spent with Gabe, the more time I wanted to spend with him. And this was the most unusual and totally unique part of our friendship, as far as I was concerned. Usually I needed to escape from people after a while and find a quiet corner and a good book. Now I didn't feel right unless I knew Gabe was nearby. I liked to hear him mumble to himself while he worked and move from room to room Hell, I hardly mined when he interrupted me and just started talking about whatever was rolling through his mind. 

If he didn't want to sleep with me, fine. If he did, but he didn't want to stay with me and at least try to make a long-term relationship work, well I could live with that too. Either way, I would have to stop seeing him, since I was sure that I couldn't be 'just friends' with him anymore. It would be awful and I could hardly imagine cutting off contact with him, even after knowing him only a little over three weeks. But if I slept with him first, and then found out that an LTR wasn't going to happen, it would just hurt a lot worse. That fear was what had kept me from trying to go further with him already.

In the end, Sandra probably did me a favor, though of course I'll never tell her that! Hopefully I could get this resolved with Gabe on Thursday. Otherwise, I would have to be locked into the loony bin. The next few days might just drive me completely around the bend. I thought about him all the time, fantasized about being with him, imagined what his body looked like, felt like and tasted like. No wonder I avoided this sort of attachment; I was seriously losing my mind. 



I Read A Lot Ch. 04



**Tom**

I didn't want to admit that Sandra had done me any favors by interrupting Gabe and I on the couch, but really she had. If she hadn't charged in, I don't think we would have stopped until we were both naked and sated. And while I would have cheered for that kind of release, I don't think I was ready for the fallout that comes with impulsive actions. 

Someone in college had once joked that I would have to plan ahead before I spontaneously combusted. 

If that person had seen me on the couch with Gabe, half-crazed with pent-up frustration, ready to chew his clothes off to get to him, they would have laughed themselves silly. Gabe just did that to me, every time I saw him, wherever we were. In a way, I felt drawn to him like a planet orbiting the sun. And in a completely different way, I also felt like I was stalking my prey. The contradictions that didn't really seem at adds in my head made me feel a little dizzy.

Until now, I had never even considered a serious relationship. My past experiences had definitely been casual in nature. I know that a few of the guys I'd been with wanted more from me, and one of them had been pretty determined to start something lasting. But it hadn't really worked out. One former -- whatever-you-would-call-him, Chad figured that if I wanted to be with him, and I could just change parts of my personality to suit him, we could build a life together. I realized that if I had to morph into someone different, then it wasn't really me that Chad wanted. It wasn't that I thought there was anything wrong with long-term partners, or that I didn't want one, I just hadn't met anyone that triggered those kinds of feelings in me. Now that I had, I knew that casual was not going to be enough.

From our conversations, I knew Gabe experiences were at least a little different from mine. He called them 'flings' which sounds so carefree, but baffled me. He had been friends with his previous lovers first and then they seemed to just evolve into more than friends. After they split, he seemed to go back to being friends with them. (I could never seem to do that.) When we talked, he never seemed to regret his relationships and he never seemed to have wanted anything else than what he'd had. What I didn't know was what he wanted now, with me.

The more time I spent with Gabe, the more time I wanted to spend with him. And this was the most unusual and totally unique part of our friendship, as far as I was concerned. Usually I needed to escape from people after a while and find a quiet corner and a good book. Now I didn't feel right unless I knew Gabe was nearby. I liked to hear him mumble to himself while he worked and moved from room to room Hell, I hardly minded when he interrupted me and just started talking about whatever was rolling through his mind. 

If he didn't want to sleep with me, fine. (It wasn't fine at all, but I would accept it for argument's sake.) If he did, but he didn't want to stay with me and at least try to make a long-term relationship work, well I could live with that too. Either way, I would have to stop seeing him, since I was sure that I couldn't be 'just friends' with him anymore. It would be awful and I could hardly imagine cutting off contact with him, even after knowing him only a little over three weeks. But if I slept with him first, and then found out that an LTR wasn't going to happen, it would just hurt a lot worse. That fear was what had kept me from trying to go further with him already.

In the end, Sandra probably did me a favor, though of course I'll never tell her that! Hopefully I could get this resolved with Gabe on Thursday. God did I despise anything that even resembled 'a talk'. Any time someone said the words: 'we have to talk,' I would rather eat glass. But I had to do something, I had to know what would happen. Otherwise, I would have to be locked into the loony bin. The next few days might just drive me completely around the bend. I thought about him all the time, fantasized about being with him, imagined what his body looked like, felt like and tasted like. No wonder I avoided this sort of attachment; I was seriously losing my mind.

Work had been my only respite from all of this maudlin brain work. The company I worked for, and my work-group especially had landed a huge project. Since a lot of the initial planning had been my idea, my boss had decided to see if I could head up the group and manage the whole thing. It was a big step, one that took me away from purely technical tasks and would force me to spend more time and energy managing people and the project. While people-skills aren't always my strength, my boss thought it was time to see what I could do. The last week or so at work had been intense as I planned for our launch meeting and the entire project. When I immersed myself in this new challenge, I could escape some of the uncertainties and fluttering butterflies of my feelings for Gabe.

If I had to be in touch with all my feelings, all of the time, I would go wacko-bananas.

**Gabe**

On Thursday I parked Tom's car at Tonio's and walked over to the Frisbee Park around 6pm. Since I had tons of stuff to schlep around and only a bike to do it with, Tom had generously offered to lend me his car. It was thoughtful of him to offer his car, given that I had tons of stuff to get over to Isabelle's in order to hang my pieces for the art show. When I tried to thank him, though, he just waved it aside, as if it was totally normal that he would inconvenience himself for me.

Since the night that Sandra interrupted us, Tom and I hadn't spent much time together, and I was trying hard not to read too much into it. All of his words sounded right: he was crazy busy at work with a big meeting coming up, and I should focus on finishing up for the show at Isabelle's. It wasn't that he was wrong, or even inconsiderate. Rather it was my fear eating away at me. What if I had finally found a man that could be more than *just for fun* and he was already tired of me? In a twisted way, it would serve me right. I had certainly walked away from a few nice guys in the past. It probably was my cosmic turn to have someone walk away from me.

Once I got to the Park, I looked around and found Amy hanging out with a few of the other wives/husbands/partners/whatevers of the players. It had taken me a while to remember the names of the core players and even longer figure out all their attachments. According to Amy, I was still doing better than Tom, who had stop trying to remember a long time ago. Amy was wearing a pretty, flowy kind of dress that looked very nice in the warmer weather we'd been having. She waved at me when she saw me walking and motioned that I should join her.

"Gabe," Amy crooned as she held up her arms to give me a hug. "How's the favorite man in my life?" The delivery of this greeting was a little dramatic and I knew she was doing to help include me in a conversation already under way.

"Uh oh," I replied and I wrinkled my brow. "What did Henry do now? If I'm your favorite, then he must be in some serious trouble." The rest of the group laughed and welcomed me. I continued, "Okay, spill. What's he done?" I'll admit I was expecting some minor but annoying infraction like leaving the seat up or forgetting their anniversary.

Maria from the other side of the group spoke up, "He's going to England for two weeks."

"Without her," someone else added.

With a swivel, I turned a looked straight at Amy, trying to see just what her true feelings might be. This might be a public chat, but I was sure that her mood was a little more serious than she was letting on.

Amy waved a hand and dismissed it all. "It's a great opportunity for a couple for conferences. He's presenting something or other and it will look perfect on his resume. Besides," Amy said, laying a soothing hand on my arm. "I told him to bring me back a fabulous present and I would be fine."

I stared at Amy hard and I decided to save my 'liar liar, pants on fire' for a more private time when I could find out the whole story.

Just then, Tom jogged over to my side, a little out of breath. "Hey, why don't we go over and grab a table, since we have to leave early?" He greeted everyone quickly and explained that we would go ahead to the restaurant and save a table. Tom and I had to get over to the café in order to paint the wall and hang my work tonight. If we spent all evening with the Frisbee folks, we would never get it all done.

Amy decided to come with us since she was feeling a little tired and wanted to sit down.

The three of us began walking to Tonio's, Tom and I on either side of Amy. Once we were well out of earshot everyone else, Tom took her hand and said, "Amy-honey, it's not four months in Africa and he's not Scott."

"Yeah?" she asked in a plaintive voice. Amy turned her head to look at Tom and I could see him smile kindly at her, then touch her nose lightly.

"Besides," Tom added. "If Henry tried anything, Gabe and I would break his pointy little head."

At this Amy giggled a little and turned her head to look up at me. "Would you really do that for me?"

"Absolutely," I agreed. "Then he would have to admit that two guy men opened a can of whoop-ass on him." And finally, Amy really smiled.

By now, Amy was starting to feel a little better and we had arrived at the back entrance of Tonio's. It was a good thing that we had come early, because the place was starting to get really busy. The bar was jammed with singles and the waitresses were weaving through the crowded floor with trays of pizzas held high and pitchers of beer.

The three of us found a couple of tables in the back that we could push together and be able to fit most of the regular crowd. Tom and Amy positioned themselves to see the front door in order to wave folks down when they arrived and I faced the other way, towards the back door. Kind of like a stake out, we had the place covered. 

Even more than usual, I was looking forward to a very cold beer and some ridiculously cheesy pizza, since I had spent much of the day hauling canvas and hardware. I knew that somewhere a waitress was just dying to take my order. Scanning the restaurant, I was just about to wave my hand in the air to get some attention when Amy grabbed me and hissed.

"Gabe, NO." Amy's hand clutched my arm hard enough to make me a little alarmed. She turned to Tom and said in a hoarse whisper, "Do you think it's him?"

Tom seemed as clueless as I felt. "Who? What are you talking about?"

"Over there at the end of the bar, it's Scott." Amy turned her head in a way that made it obvious that she wasn't looking in the direction she'd mentioned.

"Shit!" Tom swore heavily. "And I'm guessing the blonde isn't his sister or cousin, right?"

Amy's pained voice followed, "You so know it isn't."

"Yeah, but a guy can hope, right?" 

"Tom, tell me when I can look, okay?" I'd figured out that they had spotted the husband of Amy's best friend at the bar with someone definitely not his wife. Amy had been fretting over Jen's crumbling relationship while her friend was doing a semester of research in Africa. Now mere feet away, was the reason and proof of that disintegration. 

"Go ahead Gabe, it can't get any worse," Tom met my eyes and looked suddenly sad. He put an arm around Amy and lightly stroked her back.

Since Scott didn't know me from a manhole cover, I thought this was a great opportunity to flag down a waitress and get an eyeful at the same time.

Craning my neck and half turning in my chair, I quickly spotted the man-who-must-be-Scott and his blonde squeeze. At that moment, squeeze was pretty literal as Scott had his hand on her ass. The couple was having a good time, drinking cocktails and laughing like there wasn't a woman halfway across the world wondering why her husband seemed distant lately. Scott looked like a smooth charmer, an operator. Finally I found a waitress to signal and I turned back around in my seat. Amy and Tom were deep in conversation.

"How could he bring her here, especially in Thursdays?" Amy said. "He knows we all come here."

Tom shook his head. "Maybe he wants to get caught."

This made sense to me and I think I understood where Tom was going with this reasoning. He confirmed my thoughts with his next words.

"Amy, I we see here with another woman, what would he expect us to do about it?" Tom leveled his gaze at Amy.

"I'll have to tell Jen," Amy said flatly.

"Yup," Tom nodded. "And what easier way to break the news than have you do it for him?"

Amy sat there for a minute, staring off into nothing while she contemplated this strategy. "Then he's a bigger bastard than I thought."

"A rat-bastard," Tom agreed.

"But we can't just ignore it, can we? There's no way in hell I can talk to Jen and pretend that this isn't happening." Amy looked lost and confused. Her normally take-charge attitude had completely flown.

At this, Tom looked at me. An idea sprang into my head. Granted it was an awful idea, but at least I'd thought of something. Before I had a chance to talk myself out of it and definitely before Tom could put me in a headlock, I stood up and walked towards the end of the bar.

Scott was turned slightly away from me and his woman was more in line with my line of sight. Once I'd gone a bit away from our table, I added a little swish to my walk. Nothing obvious, not 'Queer Eye' or anything, just enough to make it clear that she and I did not go to the same church. As I approached, I made sure not to make eye contact with her, especially since none of this was really her fault. 

"Hey Scott," I crooned. "I thought that was you. Who's your friend?" I placed my hand on his shoulder and ran it down the length of his arm. Instantly, Scott turned his head and looked straight at me. Obviously he'd already had a couple of drinks because he was a little slow in reacting. 

"Do we know each other?" Scott asked this in a calm enough way, but his posture had become defensive. Still, he didn't shake off my touch.

"Very well," I said and I put a little edge in my voice. I turned and looked at the woman. "Scott seems to be having some monogamy issues. Or is this just a little drink after work?"

The woman just looked like a fish out of water, mouthing little silent "o's". I turned back to Scott. "Come on, let's go home and we can make up, hmm?"

At this point, Scott's face was turning red and he couldn't decide what to do next. Here I was, massaging his upper arm and his date looked at him like he ate small children for lunch. She decided to get the hell out of Dodge and quickly gathered her purse and moved toward the door.

As she left the scene, she said "Don't ever call me again." 

Scott just watched her leave, but then turned a fury-filled glare on me. Since this was the end of even the shred of script I had in mind, I had no idea what was going to happen next. I had just wanted the whole thing to end, and now that Scott's date had left, I figured my job here was done. Scott seemed to have other ideas.

"Just who in the hell are you and what was that all about?" Scott's voice was cold with anger and menace. I had already removed my hand, and now he moved to stand opposite me, but still very close. I figured he wasn't getting in my personal space to get friendly. About the time I decided I really should have taken some self defense classes, I heard a loud chair-scraping sound and I swiveled to find the source. 

Tom stood half the restaurant away, but he loomed larger than life in my eyes. Suddenly, Tom looked double his normal size and ready to beat the shit out someone. He focused not on me, but on Scott, who had also noticed the source of the noise. Threat and warning arced between the two men and I just stood there wondering what to do now. 

Scott blinked first. "Fuck," he swore. Then he pulled his wallet out of his pants, flung some bills on the bar and stalked to the exit. Since he couldn't really have the last word in a silent test of wills, he settled for flipping Tom off as he stomped out.

**Tom**

"Oh shit," Amy gasped. "What is he doing?"

I couldn't really guess what Gabe was planning, but after years of knowing Scott, I pretty much knew what the end result would be. Even though I had been around Scott since college, we would never have considered ourselves friends. He tolerated my presence with barely veiled contempt and never hesitated to take a cheap shot or tell an off-color gay-joke when he thought he could get away with it. So far, I had restrained myself from breaking his nose because I liked Jen and loved Amy too much to cause a rift like that in our group. But all deals were off if he laid one smarmy hand on Gabe. 

Gabe did this little saunter walk as he approached Scott that I found to be completely sexy and infuriating. Only on a stage with a pole had I ever seen someone walk like that. And the thought that he was aiming that at someone as homophobic as Scott just made me a little crazy. Rationally I knew that Gabe was just trying to get a reaction from Scott, and not actually coming on to him, but reason had flown my mind the second I figured out where Gabe was going. By the time Gabe put his hand on Scott's arm, I was past any sort of thought. The only thing that kept me from jumping up was Amy's fingers digging into my arm.

Finally Gabe's drama had played itself out: the blonde had walked away and Scott's plan had completely backfired. I had just started to breathe again when Scott looked like he was about to throw a punch at Gabe. I don't even remember moving, but in an instant I was on my feet and staring at Scott, just daring him to make a move. For years, I had been waiting to tear his ass to shreds and this seemed like a prime opportunity. He only had to sneeze in Gabe's general direction and I would be on him in a second. Scott caught my eye, held my stare and tried to hurl red daggers of hate at me through the air. It was over, any pretense of friendship between us over the years was completely dead. Scott turned and stormed off, tossing some bills on the bar and tossing me a bone in the process.

After the door slammed shut, Gabe stood looking a little stunned until a female bartender came over and handed him a couple of bottles of beer and gave him a bright smile. Gabe rewarded her with a laugh and a hand shake and started to make his way back to our table. As he walked casually across the restaurant, I met him halfway.

"What in the hell is your problem," I hissed at Gabe. "Scott can be a mean bastard and I know he is stronger than he looks."

"Yeah," Gabe agreed. "I think I figured that out a little too late."

Concerned by the slight tremble in his voice, I put my hand on his arm. It was almost the same way Gabe had touched Scott, intimate but not overt. He was shivering, kind of quaking like aspen leaves in a breeze. Feeling this I wanted to wrap my arms around him and held him close, protect him from monsters under the bed and assholes in a bar. I also wanted to shake him until his head began to wobble and he promised never to pull another dumbass stunt like that again. Anger, confusion and need chased around inside of me but found nowhere to settle down.

Gabe shrugged and he handed me a beer. He clinked the neck of his bottle with mine and we both swallowed the cold, amber deeply. With a sigh he said, "How about we fight about this later, okay? Folks are starting to come in and I don't want Amy to freak out."

"All right," I replied and I tried not to sound too pissed, but probably failed. As Gabe stepped past me, I rested my hand lightly on the small of his back and hoped I had the right to this gesture. At the moment, all I knew is that I wasn't going to let Gabe out of my sight.

By the time we got back to the table, a couple of Frisbee folks had already come in through the back door and found seats at the long table we had claimed. Our chairs next to Amy were still vacant and we slid into those. I wanted to pull mine closer to Gabe's, but thought that was being ridiculous, so I settled for angling my body a little towards him. 




I Read A Lot Ch. 04



Amy's eyes were sparkling with interest and amazement. "Oh my God, Gabe" she bubbled. "That was amazing. Scott practically ran out of here. Thank you so much." 

A waitress came over and placed a glass in front of Amy. "Mineral water with lime?" she said. After she took our order for pizza, the waitress left and Amy looked like she wanted to get back to the whole Scott-incident. It was obvious to me that Gabe wanted to put the whole thing behind him so Gabe put a stop to that.

"Amy?" Gabe asked in a sweet voice. "When are you due?" And with that, he completely switched the focus onto Amy and away from him. It was masterful. While Amy just goggled at him and made these funny fish-without-air faces, Gabe leaned back in his chair a little and put a hand on my knee. I covered his hand with mine and squeezed. 

"How did you know?" Amy gasped. "We haven't told anyone yet." She placed a hand flat and low and on her belly.

"Hmmm, let's see," Gabe said with a mischievous smile. "You've been crying, tired, and emotional. You won't play Frisbee and even though you're tiny, you keep wearing baggy clothes. Oh, and you've been trying to mother Tom and I for the last couple of weeks."

I laughed at that last one. "She does that anyway."

"Enough out of you," Amy glared. Then she looked at Gabe and said, "I'm eleven weeks and we went to our first doctor's appointment two days ago. Everything looks really good and the doctor thinks we can probably start telling people if we want to."

"So what? Is that November?" I asked. Amy was going to be the first of my close friends to be pregnant and the whole idea was really taking me by surprise. 

"Is what November?" Henry asked as he came up behind me. He walked around the table and took a chair next to Amy, throwing his arm protectively about Amy's shoulders. I knew just what he felt like that moment. 

"Well," Gabe said gleefully. "What do you think is happening in November, Dad?"

Henry blushed and kissed Amy's cheek. "So does that mean she told you without me?"

"Gabe guessed."

"And I'm thrilled. You two will be excellent parents."

"What do you think, Uncle Tom?" Henry grinned at me. 

It was now my turn to be speechless. I tried to formulate the right response and it wasn't that I wasn't happy for them, I just had no idea what to say. But 'thrilled'? I guess, since it wouldn't be my child. It just hadn't occurred to me that my peers were really ready old enough to have kids yet. Weren't we all still too young for that kind of responsibility?

The other three finally cracked up and started laughing. Gabe put an arm around my shoulders and said, "Don't hurt yourself thinking too hard, babe"

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I'm surprised and happy. It's just huge though. It'll take a while to sink in and seem real."

Amy nodded and agreed. "It's been eleven weeks and I can hardly believe it's real. If it weren't for morning sickness and the fact that my waist is disappearing, I might still think it is just a mistake."

Before I knew what was happening, a flurry of baby-talk surrounded the group. Gender, due dates, doctors' names, birthing methods, epidurals and all sorts of things I didn't want to understand any better than I already did. I assured Henry that I would support him in any way I possibly could, as long as it didn't include any bodily fluids. He gave me a knowing smile and clapped me on the back. God, what a fate.

Gabe, on the other hand seemed to be loving every moment. He seemed to revel, not so much in the discussion, but in the joy and happiness around him. I drank more beer and shoved the pizza in front of him, reminding him that we needed to leave soon.

Amidst the baby-frenzy, I finally dragged Gabe away as he shouted that he wanted to see the something-grams. "When did you turn into . . ." I paused since I had nothing to say that wouldn't offend most of the human population. Cynical I might be, but I wasn't a total ass. I usually left that to Scott.

"A nurturing and kind friend?" Gabe supplied.

"Um yeah, okay."

"My sister had a baby a couple of years ago. I listened to her go through the whole thing and it was cooler than I thought it would be. Before she moved, I got to spend a lot of time with my nephew, too. He's a fun little guy, you know?" Gabe said all this as we walked to my car.

"He was fun as long as he wasn't puking and pooping?" I asked.

Well yeah," Gabe admitted a little sheepishly.

Inside the car, I was left to my own thoughts, which I had been ignoring for a while. All day long, I had been looking forward to seeing Gabe and spending time alone with him. Somehow, I had created this little fantasy where we would work serenely side-by-side and share our evening in silence and peace. Now I had an inner orchestra of conflicting emotions tuning up in my mind. I didn't really feel ready to confront my protective and possessive feelings towards Gabe or the idea that my best friends were about to become real grown-ups.

Life suddenly seemed a lot more serious than it did just one hour before.

I had no idea if Gabe understood how I was feeling or if he was in his own little world. Whatever it was, he respected my need to be quiet and didn't try to get me to talk about might be bothering me. 

We got to the café, figured out what had to be done first and started work. While the café was still open and pretty busy, we were able to get the one wall painted (that was my job) and hang some sort of mobiles from the ceiling (definitely Gabe, there). Until the place cleared out though, we wouldn't really be able to wield hammers and pull tables away from the rest of the walls. All this time, Gabe thankfully left me mostly alone to work and think.

The only problem with this situation was that I wasn't as happy being alone as I thought I would be. I mean, Gabe was only half a room away, and I had created this huge space between us. I became crankier and crankier as time went on. I had the feeling that I needed to talk to him, but I couldn't understand how that would help. Why couldn't I just figure stuff out on my own. Like: why was I so completely pissed off at him about the whole incident with Scott? And why did it make me sad that Amy and Henry were going to have a baby when I was supposed to be happy? And why did I keep looking over at Gabe every two minutes to make sure that some idiot didn't start flirting with him? Whatever was going on, I didn't like feeling this unsettled.

**Gabe**

I wanted to ask him what was wrong, why he was acting like a sulking kid with his bottom lip pouting out. I also wanted to smack him in the back of the head and tell him to get the hell over it, whatever his problem was. But, either approach would have Tom sinking further into his own mind, making up conversations that would be worse than anything we could say to one another. God, he could be morose sometimes.

In the end, I just started talking, without thinking about it much first, which is sort of a 'me' thing to do. But first I quietly walked up behind him while he was washing brushes in the utility room, with the water running. The room was tiny and bright with a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.

He knew I was there though; I saw his shoulders straighten as I moved closer. When I was right behind him I lowered my mouth to his ear and said, "I think we have some unfinished business from the other night."

Only when he was done with the brush did he turn around. He was still tense, but I couldn't tell if it was from anger, fear or nerves. His shoulders were square and he jutted his chin out a little defiantly, like he was ready to face the principal in elementary school. But he met my eyes and said, "How do people do this, Gabe? We're not even together and I'm a wreck?"

Wow, Tom just does not know how to beat around the bush at all. Either it's a total silent treatment or he just lays his heart open. His plaintive honesty took my breath away.

"I don't know, babe. I haven't figured it all out yet." Then I took one off his broad hands and laced his fingers with mine, like he did after that first Frisbee game. The tight band of worry around my chest loosened a little as he tightened his grasp and rubbed the soft pad of flesh under my thumb. "Talk to me." 

With that soft request and demand, Tom closed his eyes and breathed deeply a few times. "I'm scared shitless most of the time. I'm afraid that I'll disappoint you, that you don't care about me as much as I care about you, that you'll leave." Then he opened his eyes and pierced my heart with his stare. "Gabe, I do not want to mess this up."

His words rang true and honest. I could feel how hard it was for him to admit so many weaknesses to me. Could I be even half as honest with him as he was with me? I never had before. My usual modus operandi was to be with someone as long as it was easy, then take off before being in a relationship became work. Maybe it was time I tried something different. 

"So far," I said. "You've done almost everything right. And I haven't made it especially easy on you either."

I leaned in, kissed his lips softly and continued, "When I'm at the bookstore, I look at books and wonder 'has Tom read this one?'. On Thursdays for Frisbee, I make sure that that I look at least a little bit good, because I like to see you smile when you first see me. And before you leave my place, I always want to know when the next time will be that I see you. But I've never told you any of that. Does it make any sense?"

After a moment, Tom nodded thoughtfully and quirked a half-smile. "I thought I might have to tear Scott's head off tonight. When you went over to bust his chops, and you did your flirting routine, I got so jealous; Amy had to talk me off the ledge. But when he looked like he might take a swing at you, I just could take it anymore."

"Yeah, I noticed." I beamed at him. "It was quite the display of testosterone."

Tom laughed, "That figures. I turn into a Neanderthal and you get a kick out of it."

"Are you kidding? It was totally hot. I've never had a guy fight for me before." And this was the truth. I don't think I had ever meant so much to anyone before, because I hadn't ever let anyone care about me that much.

I put my hand on Tom's chest. His heart was racing under my touch. He kept staring into my eyes, but it seemed that his vision got a little glazed at this point. Between my words and the contact of our bodies, I wasn't really surprised when his free hand reached around my waist and pulled me to him. He covered my mouth with his and there was nothing civilized in his kiss. His fear, desire, need and possessiveness drove him to claim my mouth and to hell with me if I didn't want him. Lucky for both of us I did. I didn't try to take control because he needed to feel that right now, but I did match him with my own hunger. Our tongues darted and danced as we sucked and nipped at one another. For long minutes, he explored my mouth thoroughly and held my body immobile against him, pressing his need into me as he plundered.

Finally I had to push him away in order to breathe. "Okay," I said, trying to get my breath. "I get it. You kind of like me a little bit."

Tom just chuckled and loosened his grip a tiny bit so I could breathe. "Yeah, just a little bit. Of course, this might not be the most romantic place to tell you," Tom said and he waved his hand to indicate the mop room. 

We headed out to the main room and decided to relax a little with some coffee until the place cleared out a little. I was hugely relieved when Tom took a seat close to me like usual instead of across the table. It was a habit he had started from the very first and I always enjoyed that sense of proximity, the feeling that our closeness had meaning and importance.

"You know," Tom said quietly after he set his coffee cup down. "I don't really dislike babies."

Where had this come from? Back at the restaurant he had been making jokes, but I didn't take any of that seriously and I told him that. "You were just kidding; I think Henry and Amy know that."

"Good," he sighed. "But I'm still having a hard time with the whole idea. I've known them for a long time and you'd think I wouldn't be surprised by this, but I am. I guess it never occurred to me that they would start a family of their own?"

I tilted my head and looked at his three-quarter profile: straight long nose, the hard line of his determined jaw, a day's growth of whiskers casting shadows in the hollows of his cheeks. "What's bothering you?" Hopefully he caught my interested tone, my curiosity. 

His eye flicked to me, but he kept his head turned that little bit away. "I'm not quite sure, I don't have it all figured out yet."

"You could just talk to me anyway, you know. I'd like to listen"

Tom tilted his head down and stared at our hands that were twined in his lap. I doubted that either of us noticed when that had happened, but it felt good and solid. "Would it make any sense if I told you that I felt a little jealous and angry when Amy said they were going to have a baby? At first I just tried to tell myself that it was leftover emotion from the thing with Scott, but I think it's more than that."

I nodded, but I doubted he could see my action so I spoke the next word softly, "How long have you three been friends?"

"Since second year of college. Henry and I knew each other from the dorms in our first year. We never lived with each other, exactly, but usually really close by. Then for the last six years Amy has been there, too."

"What was that like, when you met Amy and introduced her to Henry?" I felt a little like a hawk or eagle, circling overhead. I had spied my prey, getting closer and closer to what was really bothering Tom. He'd been cactus-prickly at least since the restaurant, but before that too, I thought. Though we hadn't known each other that long, I did know enough to realize that I could never pry anything out of him. He would only talk when he was good and ready. My job was to listen . . . carefully.

Tom turned his head and his smile flashed as our eyes met. "When those two got together, it was like music. They fit so well. I think they had a few ups and downs, but really, there was never any question that they were meant to build a life together. They are more than the sum of their parts, if that makes any sense."

I nodded, and then I waited. The silence stretched a bit, but before it became taut or brittle, Tom continued.

"I'm remembering now that I was a little worried that I had possibly done myself out of two friends by introducing them. But that never happened. I mean, we've stayed friends, the three of us, maybe even better friends than we would have otherwise"

"And now?" I prompted softy.

"A baby? I know it is completely selfish of me to focus on how their having a baby is going to change my life, but at least part of me can't seem to help it. Amy and Henry have been the only things keeping me going sometimes. If it weren't for Amy, I would never have left my work cubicle and tried propose a project, let alone lead a team. And Henry's had my back for so long." Tom's eyes pleaded with me to understand, not to judge him too harshly for his admission. "I am completely happy for them, 'cause no baby could ask for better parents."

My hand rubbed his and I tried to show him my acceptance of his fears. "I think your being reasonable, Tom. They're a big part of your life, I get that."

"There's something else, too."

"What?"

Sucking in a huge, bracing lungful of air, Tom said in one breath, "The other day you said you wanted to take things one step at a time, but I'm not sure I can do that." The he just stared at me, and waited for my reaction.

"Oh," I said softly and I probably blinked a lot. Tom's hand tightened on mine, but I pulled and pulled until I had it back and he was no longer touching me in any way. In the middle of a quiet, public place, I promised myself not to make a scene. Besides, I told myself, we hadn't been going out that long and we hadn't (thank God) slept together yet. So Tom breaking up with me shouldn't be a big deal. I would think it to death and make myself a million promises not to do whatever it was that caused him to leave, even if I couldn't actually think of a single thing I would have done differently. "Um, let me just get the rest of my stuff out of your car and you can get out of here."

With that, I made to stand up. I had to lock my knees in order not to fall over though, since I felt suddenly a little shaky. But if he said "it's me, it's nothing about you," I might just freaking scream.

"What, where are you . . . wait just sit down a second." Tom sounded urgent.

While I wanted nothing more than to leave the room, I sat stiffly and placed my hands over my knees. In my head, I had a picture of my great-grandmother sitting like that: sort of prim. Tom tried to pry my hands off my knees, but I wouldn't budge, so he settled for circling my wrists with his fingers.

Tom hung his head and mumbled, "Christ, this is why I'm an engineer, Gabe. I never get this right."

"It's okay, just say it," I ground out. "I'm sure I've heard it before."

"Gabe, I don't want to take this one step at a time. I want every step right now, the whole, damned marathon."

"What?" Okay, now I was totally confused. 

Fingers grazed my cheek and feathered down my jaw. "I don't think I could stand to have you in my life and then have you leave. And I'm terrified that I'll scare you away because I want more than you do. I don't think I could really handle a casual relationship when what I really want is so much more than that." 

"You do? With me?"

"Yeah, of course." Tom chuckled a little and I wondered why. "You say that like I must be crazy or something."

"It's just that no one I've ever felt strongly about has wanted a real relationship before. At some point, I stopped thinking it would ever happen. Instead, I just got used not getting involved. It might take me a little time to get used to the idea." I think I was smiling by now, and I know Tom was grinning like an idiot. 

"So does that mean I can go back to holding your hand and you're not going to try escaping on me again?"

I nodded.

"Good," Tom said and he exhaled a breath he had been holding for a long time. "Now I think I can try to get my heart started again."

For the longest time we just sat in our chairs, knees touching, holding hands as we tried to wrap our minds around what we had just figured out. 

"Boyfriend?" I said

"At least that," Tom replied. "Do you have anything better?"

I snorted a laugh, "Nothing that can be said out loud." And I nudged myself closer until one of my legs was in between his. 

"So how long before we can get out of here, do you think?" Tom asked and he practically leered at me.

The café was pretty empty by then, and it was a testament to how oblivious we had been that we hadn't noticed. "Well, if get started now and stay focused, we might finish in about an hour and a half. Is that fast enough?" I asked.

"Nope," Tom growled. "But it won't get done just talking about it."

And with that, we both got to our feet and went over to the tools I had gathered. After hours spent measuring and figuring, I had decided on the placement of eleven small frames and one bigger one. The one was covered with paper, and I wasn't ready to reveal it until tomorrow. Other than that, the rest of the pictures were ready to hang. Along with the plans, I handed Tom a level, a measuring tape, a hammer and some nails.

"Get to work, handyman," I said and I smacked his butt for emphasis.

Watching Tom focus on a task in front of him was an awesome sight. It was like he actually submerged himself in his work, and I suspected this is what had made him so successful in his career. With a pencil behind his ear, he rechecked all my measurements, made adjustments to my plan as he went around the room and then double checked all this against the dimensions of the pictures. Except for the last picture, he was done in only half the time I had expected. 




I Read A Lot Ch. 04



Once all the nails were in place, I started hanging each frame and checking it with a level. Just to make things a little extra secure, I affixed blobs of gallery wax to the bottom corners under each frame. Pretty soon, all I had to do was hang the last picture. As I turned around and looked toward the wall that would display the larger work, I saw Tom about to pull away the paper covering it.

"Stop," I said. I didn't want to shout, but there was no way I wanted him to see the painting yet, not until tomorrow night.

"What's wrong?" he asked innocently.

"Umm, not dry." I just hoped he bought that. Lucky for me, he did.

With a shrug, he stepped over to the freshly painted wall and double checked the measurements. "Do you know how heavy it is? Should we use one of the heavy, picture-hangers?"

"Yeah, that would be good. But I'll hang it, all right?"

"Sure, it's your show, you're the boss," he grabbed the hook and banged it into the wall. If he was curious about hat picture, he didn't let on and I was relieved. It wasn't a huge deal, but I had worked hard on that one and hoped he liked it once he saw.

In the corner, against the wall was the last picture. I hefted it up, checked the wire in the back and placed it onto the hook. After a few final adjustments, it was done. "Tom," I called. "Why don't you gather up the tools and I'll write a note to Isabelle." Tom was nowhere to be seen.

With a big tool box hanging from his hand and a step and a step ladder over his shoulder, Tom walked past me and towards the door. "I think I have one more trip and then we're ready to go," he said as he kicked the door open with his foot.

'I love a man with a mission,' I said to myself and shook my head. Tom walked back through the door and smiled at me as he went to get the drop sheet and painting stuff. I swear, if he were any more excited about getting me alone, he would start whistling. Lucky for him, I felt the same.

Once we were in the car, Tom ran his hand up my arm and curled it around my neck and as I leaned into him, he kissed me. It was like the last two hours hadn't happened and we were right back in the utility room, desperate for each other and not really caring where we were. I sucked at his invading tongue and caressed it with my own. At some point, I fisted his shirtfront and tried to pull him into me. I wanted Tom so much, so deeply, my need scared me a little bit.

Tom lowered his head to break the kiss, "I've never done it in a car before, but if we don't get home, I might." His breath was as ragged as mine, and I thrilled at the idea that his desire for me was as strong as mine for him.

"I don't think Sandra can really handle us being together, Tom. She is still getting over us making out on the couch last week." My roommate and I had argued as politely as we could while neither had admitted fault. No matter that she could have her boyfriend stay the night, it seemed that I could not.

"Hmmm, if it's my turn to be alpha-male, then we'll go get your stuff. I'm taking you to my place."

"That's fine, cave man. Just don't go slapping my butt to make your point. And besides, my bag is in the trunk." I'm sure I blushed, but luckily, Tom couldn't see it.

"Pretty sure of yourself, huh?" And he turned the car in the direction of his place.

The drive to Tom's was quiet, but peaceful. I didn't yet have a word for why, but I felt at ease in Tom's presence. It didn't totally make sense to me, but I had to admit that it was true. Whatever I was doing, wherever I was, I felt sure that I would have more fun, be happier if Tom were there as well. In the past, I had experienced strong feelings for some of my flings, and I had felt a deep kinship with some of my friends. But not even with my first boyfriend, Mark had I felt those feelings for the same person. As we drove Tom would put his hand o n my knee after he shifted gears. Like it was the most natural place in the world for his hand to be, my knee became a sort of 'home base'. I was thinking that just maybe, Tom was feeling some of the same things I was, too.

Finally we arrived at Tom's place. It was an older, stone apartment building with probably more character than modern amenities. The windows were big and some of them had ari-conditioners mounted. Inside, we climbed the stairs to his floor. I was curious what his space could tell me about the man I was just starting to know. Once inside, my expectations were mostly confirmed. Rarely have I seen a place that so clearly reflects the person, I thought. The living room was lined with book cases from floor to ceiling and those were completely jammed with books. There were no little niches with decorations, like in a Pottery Barn catalog, here. The room looked more like a library than a place where one might entertain. He had a big chair and ottoman with a light behind it and a massive couch under the windows. Next to the couch were an empty plate and a book. Strewn on the back couch was an ancient afghan that looked like something my grandmother would have crocheted.

I heard Tom's footsteps behind me, and then a tentative touch low on my back. He rumbled, "Are you sorry you got yourself into this? It isn't as pretty as your place?"

I turned to look at Tom's face and could see the apprehension in his eyes. He was worried that I would reject him. I wanted to reassure him and put his mind at ease.

"That's Sandra's place, not really mine. You're right though and she would have a fit if she saw your apartment." I could see Tom wince a little. "As far as I'm concerned, this is perfect: warm, comfortable and very you." 

"Good enough," Tom said as he heaved a sigh of relief. 

It was then that I heard the chirp of Tom's phone go off. 

**Tom**

"Hey Mom," I tried to answer the phone casually. How is it that mothers know just when the worst possible time to call is? It could be dinnertime, the moment before you step out of the door, or just after a shower and you're standing there naked. Or now, when I was just about to wrap my arms around Gabe and kiss him all night long. I wondered how long this would take and if she would figure out what I was up to if I tried to get off the phone.

After a couple of minutes of listening to my mother and tracing circles on Gabe's lower back, I realized two things: one was that I couldn't concentrate with Gabe so close to me and the second was that my Mom needed more attention than I was giving her.

"Mom," I halted her mid-stream. "Hang on a second, okay?"

"Should I go?" Gabe turned and looked at me with those huge lion-eyes.

I shook my head, "No, never. Just go take your shower while I do this. There're towels and stuff in the cabinet. If you try to leave, I'll steal your clothes."

Gabe grinned a little wickedly and waggled his eyebrows at me. "Sounds good to me." And damned if he didn't swat my butt as he walked away. God, what a view.

"Yeah Mom, I'm here." And there I was for the next fifteen minutes. A long time ago, I had realized that mostly what my mother needed was someone to listen to her. 

Before she hung up the phone she landed her parting, omniscient shot, "Why don't you bring your friend with you the next time you come?"

I cringed even though she couldn't see it. "Mom, were not there yet."

"Oh well," she sighed a huge, mother's sigh. "No harm in trying."

As I snapped my phone closed, I turned around just in time to see Gabe in my bedroom as he took off his damp towel and bent over to grab a pair of shorts. Holy God, how was it possible that this man was naked and in my apartment. Fantasy fiction is one thing, but this was a living, breathing apparition of everything I've wanted for so long, I had been convinced it didn't exist. 

Soon, I was going to wake up and find out that that last month was a huge, elaborate dream. Gabe winked at me and pulled the shorts up his long, lean legs and over his very fine ass. I was hoping I didn't wake up for a little while yet.

His wink at me said he knew exactly the effect he had on me, though my open mouth probably made it pretty obvious. We won't even go into the erection that was pushing against the front of my pants. Gabe walked over to me, placed his hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear, "Why don't you take that shower, baby? I'll fix us a snack."

Once inside the bathroom, I was torn between taking the world's fastest shower and trying to get actually clean. I opted for something in between. As I began to soap my body, I found myself thinking about Gabe and what it would be like to be in there with him, sliding my hands down his chest, toying with his nipples, running my hands between. . . Since I didn't want the party to end before it even began, I turned off the hot water and did my level best to calm down and stop fantasizing. For once, my reality was better than my imagination and I wasn't going to waste my em, energy daydreaming.

In the kitchen, I found Gabe puttering around at the counter. He had found cheese and fruit and was putting a few crackers on a plate, too. The radio was on and he had it tuned to the late night jazz show I sometimes liked. In all, it felt very relaxed. 

"Want a beer?" I asked as I went to the fridge and pulled two out. Without really waiting for an answer, I twisted off both tops and handed one to Gabe. "That looks great, thanks." And I snagged some cheese and a slice of apple.

We settled on the bar stools and munched for a minute in silence.

"How was your shower?" Gabe asked.

I glared at him a little, "Cold."

He laughed through his nose and looked away. "Oops," he mumbled.

Reaching towards the counter, I took his hand in mine and placed it on my cheek. It felt weird at first, like I was scripting the motion, but I still liked the way his hand touched me. In a second, he turned back to me and began stroking my face a little and I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the moment. We had been busy since the moment we had seen each other that day. There hadn't been a single moment, except in the utility room, when we just stopped what we were doing to be together. I leaned into his hand just that little bit and felt the pressure returned. He held me firmly in the palm of his hand.

Gabe's lips touched mine and I'm pretty sure I groaned. How a kiss could be soft and firm at the same time, I still hadn't figured out, but I definitely loved it. He moved over my mouth with sureness and deliberation, not rushing. Somehow we were standing now and I was able to pull him closer to me as I moved a hand around his waist and tugged him to me. His fingers strayed into my hair and I wanted nothing more than to breathe him in and capture this moment in my memory forever. Our mouths opened and moved and I tried to tease his tongue into mine, but we met halfway, curling and nipping.

I was reminded by my again-straining erection that there might be a better location for this kind of fun. With this in my I broke the kiss, but barely separated our mouths. "Come with me?" I whispered to his lips. Gabe's forehead touched mine and he only whispered, "Yes."

Once on the bed, our actions became a lot less tentative. Our hands touched, roamed and traced the lines of each other's body. My undershirt came off, partly with my help and partly Gabe's. Since we had so far always been at his place with his roommate around, Gabe and I had not actually seen much of each other and I found myself desperate and greedy to feel every square inch of him. 

Swiftly, I moved down to his neck and nuzzled the line of his collar bone and down to one pinky-little nipple I had been dreaming about. His chest was nearly hairless, with flat planes of muscle begged me to massage and feel them. I circled a nipple with my tongue and then sucked it into my mouth. Gabe's response was sharp and instantaneous; he drew in a quick breath, pushed his cock against me and groaned low and long. Liking that response, I caressed the nipple and pushed it against my teeth just a little to heighten the sensation. Gabe rewarded me with a stronger thrust of his hips and some garbled words I couldn't understand. 

While I moved over to his other side to repeat the experiment, I moved my hands down and under him to cup his ass. The next time I nipped him and he thrust against me, I cupped a globe of his ass and squeezed to feel the flex of muscle in my hand. Gabe had a leg between mine and I was soon humping against that, mimicking the same action.

During the past month, I had dreamed of being with Gabe while I was awake and asleep. Images of what we had done and I wanted to do with him would flash through my mind. But now that I had the real thing in my arms, I couldn't deny that reality was better than any fantasy. My senses were overcome with so much smell and touch of this amazing man, and other than that, my brain was fried.

"Want to feel you inside of me," Gabe's voice penetrated my hazed mind. 

"You sure?" I asked as I smoothed the hair from his face. "I'm not a total alpha-male, you know."

"Yeah, I know. We'll get to the other, but I want feel you all around me," Gabe said this and massaged my shoulders.

My brain re-engaged and I was able to function enough to remember where I stashed the fresh bottle of lube and condoms. Once I had these at hand, I moved back down Gabe's body and traced the lined of hair that shadowed his sternum down to his navel. The skin on his belly was so incredibly soft, like nothing I had ever felt and I couldn't seem to resist rubbing my face over and over it. The smell of him entered my nostrils and I finally had to satisfy my curiosity to see and feel and taste him. I nudged lower and let my mouth have the first taste of Gabe's cock. The tip was hot and wet and I brushed my lips over the surface eagerly to coat my mouth with him. Vaguely, I heard Gabe moan and could feel a shudder before I opened my lips and took him into me. 

My eyes were closed and I reached out with my senses to feel him. The heat between our bodies shimmered, like a desert road on a hot day. My dick nudged under his balls and I wanted to be inside of him so badly, I thought I would fly apart otherwise. It was all I could do to roll on the condom and find the lube. I pressed a finger into him and heard twin moans fill the room. With my forehead pressed to his, we began to move together, matching out rhythm.

"Now, please," Gabe mumbled into my mouth as I rose over him and caressed his thighs. 

One minute Gabe was with me and then the next, he wasn't. All while I held him in my mouth, I had still felt connected. I mean it isn't as if he had slipped into some magical realm and he had disappeared, rather it was like his body was there, but his will had eased away. Now, I had just entered him, pushed past his initial resistance and I felt enclosed in that amazing tightness and heat that made me dizzy and lightheaded. As I began to thrust into him, feeling him around me, I realized that I couldn't feel that connection between us. His hands on my back had gone still, his thighs gripped me more loosely. 

God, what if I'd hurt him? Or scared him? Or just been too damned self-centered to notice his needs? 

"Hey," I whispered to him, and I brushed my lips against his. "Where'd you go?" Gabe had his eyes closed, his neck craned away from me a bit. "Are you hurting?" He just shook his head a fraction. Whatever was happening, I needed to concentrate on Gabe and not on my dick. I started to pull out.

In a flash Gabe moved his hands down to my ass and pulled me into him as he opened his eyes. "Don't leave," he said and he stared at me with those lion eyes, glowing and a little wild in the dim light. "You feel right, you fit."

"Tell me what's wrong," I said as I traced the line of his jaw with my fingertips. 

Gabe just shook his head. "Nothing really. I just can't seem to stop thinking."

Yeah, I could totally relate to thoughts spinning out of control with no sense to them and nowhere to land. Sometimes I felt like I was flying to bits. But not right now, not with Gabe's presence anchoring me. "So let's just slow down until your brain can catch up, hmm? We could switch, if you want." Gabe shook his head a little. I went on, wanting to fix the situation, wanting a solution. "We don't have to do this tonight. I'm not in any hurry."

A strangled moan of frustration came from Gabe's throat and he said, "You wouldn't be mad about waiting?"

Into the space under his Adam's apple I mumbled, "We have years to make love." The skin on Gabe's neck was driving me crazy and I ran by nose up and down feeling the softness and the curve and the scent. He had missed a little spot shaving and reached out to touch it with the tip of my tongue. I darted my tongue out to taste the delicate skin at that little juncture between Gabe's collarbones and I felt him shudder.

"Years?" 

"Mmmhmm." I answered, but I was a little too busy to form a coherent word. It was as if I had been in Kansas and now in Oz, I could experience all the colors I had only heard of. The skin on Gabe's chest, with his smattering of golden hair had a totally different texture than the skin behind his ear. Experimenting a little, I rubbed the bristles of my chin down the centerline of his chest and then swept over towards a nipple. Distantly I registered that I could feel the rise and fall of Gabe's breathing under my chest. Gabe's nipples were especially sensitive and I played until I began to understand just how much attention he liked and when I had begun to cross the line into too much. Soon, I could feel his erection hardening stiff under my belly and his moans of pleasure reached my ears. At some point, my hands had wandered and I found I had been stroking his hips, sides and ass. 

I could talk about before: what I had felt with other lovers and try to compare how this felt different, but that wouldn't really be fair to what I experienced that night with Gabe. In some way, I finally felt that I was actually inside another person. This wasn't the usual experience of feeling that wonderful engulfment, that surrounding heat and tightness on my dick. It was more as if I was reaching out with every sense I had and was travelling through Gabe's veins, running along his nerves and beating with his heart. If it were possible, I wanted to make love to him from the inside out in every way. And the most amazing part was that Gabe let me into his mind, and heart and body; he trusted me completely. It was a gift so precious, it would have brought me to my knees.

"Tom," Gabe gasped. "Do that. . . aghh. . . again." I guessed we didn't need to wait, after all.

Whatever it was, I must have done it right, so I did it again. Later we would have time to analyze and figure it out. Right at that moment, I just loved everything we were both doing to each other. Gabe had his hands firmly on my ass and he was gripping and moving his hands in a way that made no sense, but felt great.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm hmm," Gabe managed through clenched teeth.

The wetness on my belly was becoming harder to ignore and I realized that it wasn't all our combined sweat. Something down there needed more attention than it was getting. I reached and ran my hand down the length of Gabe's cock. He was hard, nearly rigid with need. I used opened palm to feel the strength in him before I wrapped my fingers around it and set a tempo that mostly matched the one of our combined bodies. Gabe's reaction, a low, low groan made it obvious that I had really done something right. Our rhythm felt like the rocking of the sea, gentle, inexorable and totally out of our control. 

Between the motion, the smells and sounds, every sense I had was close to being overloaded. Like seeing a wave crest coming, I was sure that I couldn't last much longer. But there was no way I was leaving Gabe behind, wanting. I hunched over his stretched out body to find his incredibly sensitive hot spot. Taking a sweet nipple into my mouth, I gently circled it with my tongue. This new attack must have changed my angle just enough too, because he set up a little shout and bucked up into me. His whole body vibrated with a tight sense of nearing climax. I continued to assault one nipple then another, stroked him firmly, and met his increased rhythm.




I Read A Lot Ch. 04



"Rightyeah howcanyoumore, ahhh."

Gabe kept up a steady stream of nonsense words, but I got the general idea that I should keep going if I valued my life. With a final "Unhh, Tom" and a deep groan of effort I felt the warm liquid of him spill into my hand and his tight muscles constricting around me. He bowed forward with the force of his orgasm and tried to pull me even harder into himself. With a few last deep thrusts, I was there with him, my face pressed into his neck while he held my head and rocked with me to my completion.

Every single muscle in my body was trembling from exertion and satisfaction. For a long time, neither of us moved or talked and we just tried to catch our breath. Personally, I had no idea what to say. I had never felt so completely part of another person in my entire life. For some reason I can't quite understand, I mostly felt embarrassed. As soon as I gathered the energy, my instinct was to get away, even if it was just to the bathroom to clean up. Maybe I was having a hard time fitting back inside my own skin? I don't know.

Lucky for me, Gabe was a lot more lucid than I was and said just the right thing. "Baby, I don't know how you did that, or even what exactly you did, but you can do it again anytime you want," he said in a low, groan-husked voice. Then he added, "As long as it's with me."

I pushed up on my elbows, needing to see those eyes. "It wasn't just me," I said as I looked from eye to eye, trying to memorize them. "I'm not like that; it's never that easy. It was definitely a team effort. And I don't want to be like that with anyone else."

The kiss we shared then was effortless and filled with kindness and promises. If my arms hadn't threatened to completely give way, I might have been able to keep on like that all night long. Embarrassment and my need to escape had faded and I was able to get a clean washcloth to wipe Gabe. I don't think he would have been able to move if a tornado was coming, he was so totally blown. After I tossed the washcloth in the hamper I chuckled a little bit and crawled into bed, next to him. 

"What's funny?" Gabe asked groggily.

"Nothing, angel. I just like to see you happy and relaxed," I said and then leaned over and pecked him on the lips. He was slipping into sleep and I knew I was right behind him.

"Hmmm. I like that. You can call me angel. Never been an angel," Gabe babbled. 

I hadn't realized that I had called him that. Ever since I noticed that Gabe sometimes called me baby, a pet name I never thought I would be able to tolerate but somehow adored when he said it, I had been trying to think up an endearment for him. 

One day, I was so desperate for inspiration, I even did a google search on pet names for men. The lists were mostly pathetic, unimaginative or silly. There was no way I would ever be able to call Gabe 'studmuffin' with a straight face. I guess some part of my brain had already recognized the angelic in Gabe and was just now communicating to the news to me. I just hope I remembered in the morning.

**Gabe**

When I finally woke up for good the next morning and stretched, I think every muscle in my body ached. I had toted painting, painted walls hung pictures and made love within an inch of my life. Funny, I had thought it was Tom who could never do things by halves, but now I was beginning to think that maybe he wasn't alone. The day before was kind of a haze of frantic and frenetic action. I had been driven to finish everything, as if it were my last day on earth. The show was up and Tom was most definitely my lover. A more cynical man might have been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the tragic event that made all the happiness evaporate. Not me. I felt like I had scaled some huge mountain and now I could enjoy the view. 

The hot shower loosened a few strained muscles and the hotter coffee Tom had left in a thermos shooed away the mental cobwebs. Before I got started for the day, I had a couple of phone calls to make. When I looked at my phone, I appeared that one of my calls had read my mind and called me first. After punching some buttons, the voice of a dynamo filled my ear.

"Sweetie, I love the colors you picked," Isabelle crooned in my ear. "But why does the big one look like a UPS box?"

"Ugh," I moaned. The paper covering the biggest canvas totally slipped my mind. "I meant to leave you a note about that, but I guess I was a little distracted."

Chuckling over the phone, "That's what I figured. After I peeked at it, I decided that it would be okay to disrobe. Was I right?" The warmth and teasing in Isabelle's voice told me I was forgiven for my oversight.

"Yes, thank you. Has anyone noticed yet? I know it's early, but I was just wondering?" The café's morning crowd would have already been through the place, and it was possible that Isabelle had been able to gauge the reaction.

"Gabriel," she soothed. "I don't think a single person left my doors without raving about your work. Really, this is one of the better shows I've had up on the walls in a very long time. The response has been overwhelmingly positive."

One of the things I liked about Isabelle was her honesty. If my work had stunk, she never would have asked to have me show in her place. If the work hadn't gone over well with her customers, she wouldn't have flinched to tell me so. When we first met, she had told me that 'no one ever achieved excellence by being lied to'. At the time, it seemed a little bit harsh, but in hindsight, I realized that she was absolutely right.

"Thank you for everything Isabelle. You have no idea how much your opinion means to me."

"Just come tonight at six so we can have a little toast, okay? And bring that man with you, I think I need to have a better look at him," Isabelle said with a chuckle in her voice.

"We'll be there," I agreed. "I invited a few more friends, if that's okay? That way if Tom explodes, I'll have some help calming him down."

Isabelle rang off then and got back to her endless work. And I filled my mug with coffee before calling Tom.

"Hey," Tom said in a low voice that made my insides flip with joy. 

"You better have known it was me calling," I said mock-sternly. "Because if you answer the phone in that sexy voice for someone else, I'm going to get super jealous."

"Just you, angel," Tom husked into the phone. "Besides, I'm in my cube and I don't really want to have everyone listening in."

"Good, just making sure," I replied. "How are you doing today?" Tom had gone into work with Amy at some ridiculous hour to get ready for his project-launch meeting.

"Funny you should ask," Tom said. I could almost hear the smile in his voice. "I seem very relaxed, which is strange. The meeting starts at three, and I'm feeling pretty good about it."

"I'll pick you up at five, if that's still okay?"

"It's only okay since it can't be any sooner, but I can live with it. Are you busy this weekend?" Tom asked.

"Hmm," I considered. "I have to work a shift on Saturday, but otherwise I'll be with my extremely demanding and possessive boyfriend."

"Good, as long as we have that straight."

Since I had Tom's car (again, I know) I had a little extra time before I had to get to the bookstore. One more call and some breakfast later, and I was winging my way to my day job. A great part about working where I do is that it rarely takes up my whole brain to do it right. That's not to say that I'm a slacker, I am pretty conscientious at work. It's just that I am able to let my mind wander and float from topic to topic. Sometimes I'm working on new drawings in my head, or figuring out how to get my work out into the world where more people will see it. Today though, I had a one track mind and his name was Tom.

According to my past experiences, I was expecting to feel some sense of panic or regret at having sex with Tom last night. This was the part where I would have to start looking for and exit strategy before the other guy got too attached to me. Or right about now, I would be depressed because I had probably ruined a great friendship with mediocre sex. As I went through my workday, I kept waiting for these emotions to bubble up through my mind, but they never did.

Fairy tales are a section in the Childrens' Books and 'happily ever after' is simply a literary device for ending a story quickly. I know these things, and have tried to live my life only expecting from life what I could reasonably expect. True love was not in the cards, but if I were lucky, I would be able to find kind and generous lovers to share some time with me.

My rational brain kept repeating all these truths to me, but it seemed the rest of me had no time to listen. Tom was not anyone else I had ever met and I couldn't expect him to fall in line with all the rules I had made up to rule my life. The rules had kept me safe and unhurt ever since my first boyfriend dumped me. I was pretty sure it was time to revise the rules of engagement this time and maybe give Tom a little credit. I wasn't quite at a place where I could just let go and accept the future without any anxiety at all. But I thought I could at least put off listening to the niggling voices that tried to convince me that this relationship with Tom was bound to fail.

"Earth to Gabe," Rob's voice came over my shoulder. 

I turned and saw one of the world's cutest and most obnoxious guys smirking at me. "Hey yourself," I responded. "What's up?"

Rob continued the smirk and added a knowing stare. "Nothing much except that you are totally distracted today and I have been calling your name for like, three minutes. You a little pre-occupied?"

I schooled my features and tried not to blush since I kept having these little flashbacks to Tom touching me. Rob is a huge gossip and if he found out about my recent activities, he would broadcast it all over the store. "Mostly I'm just tired. I was hanging a show last night and it took longer than I thought." I shrugged, hoping that this made my quasi-lie believable.

"Who's show? Yours?" Rob's voice was a little excited. "No wonder you haven't been going out with us after work lately."

"Yeah, it's been a ton of work, but totally worth it. It opens tonight at that café' in Old Town, Bella's. It's not the Met, but I think it's pretty cool."

Rob practically started bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Ooooh," he crooned. (I mean really, who croons but Rob?) "What time tonight?"

"I think we'll do the opening toast around seven tonight," I answered without thinking at all. Had I half a brain, I would have known the next words out of his mouth. 

"Perfect, I'll let everyone know. If we drive together, a bunch of us can probably get there after the closers come in." Rob's smile was broad and excited as he bounded off to inform the staff of the evening's activity. It was like working with Julie-the-Cruise-Director.

Internally I groaned and kicked myself for my own stupidity for opening my mouth. Maybe I should be a little more gracious and be excited that a few people would want to come tonight. But there was still a big question in my mind and that was Tom. Truthfully, I had no idea how he would react to the big painting when he saw it. If he hated it and got storming-angry, then I'd rather not have a ton of witnesses around when he blew a gasket.

At this point I figured that if I could completely distract Tom, he wouldn't care if I had painted him stark naked for all the world to see. After checking with my boss to see if I could get out a little early and telling way to many folks that I would see them later, I headed out to the parking lot to go pick up Tom.

The couple of times I had picked Tom up from work, he had been waiting outside, so I had never actually seen where he worked. Since Tom liked to read in the evenings yet still work tons of hours, he often went to work super early in the morning. Lots of times, he and Amy shared rides to the office, like this morning. The building where he worked was nice, a little sterile and frigidly air-conditioned. Once inside, I had to check the directory to see which floor Tom's company was on. Three floors, the company took up three whole floors. Okay, how did I not know this? Inside the elevator, I poked the button the first of the three floors and hoped for the best.

"Mr. Middleton is still in a meeting in the second floor conference room," said the nice receptionist, who reminded me a little bit of my mom. 

I was a little stunned, only because I had thought Tom's company was kind of casual and I had never thought of him as 'Mr.' anybody. Trying to look like I belonged in corporate America, I followed the lady whose nametag said she was Carol. I hoped I didn't look like a gosling following the mother-duck. As we passed areas, Carol pointed out things I would never remember, and I just mumbled. Finally we came to the conference room, and she peeked in a little window in the door.

"It looks like they're finishing up in there, it shouldn't be too much longer," Carol said kindly. "You can wait in Mr. Middleton's work area, if you'd like. Do you remember where that is?"

I lied to Carol and told her I did and she made her way back down one floor and back to her post. If the meeting were almost over, then I could just hang out and hold the wall up until it was over. I knew I was a little early, and I started to think that maybe this wasn't my most brilliant impulse ever. Just as I was scanning the hallway for an escape route, the door opened and Tom came out with a huge smile on his face and walked right to me.

"I take it that the meeting went well?" I asked in a low voice. This whole 'office environment' thing was intimidating me a little and I didn't quite know how to act. Even though I knew that Tom was mostly out at work, I opted to be as professional as possible and not touch him. Tom obviously had other ideas and he kissed me lightly in the cheek and took my hand.

"The meeting was great and seeing you is even better," Tom practically purred in that way that drove me a little crazy. "Here comes my boss, I want you to meet him."

A tall, nearly middle aged man with bright eyes and a loose-limbed walk came towards us. As soon as he stood in front of us, he stuck out his hand. "Tom, great job. You have everything completely under control. Work with Carol to set-up a weekly meeting with my schedule, okay?"

"Thank you, Steve," Tom released the man's hand and turned to introduced me. I would have felt a lot less nervous if he had let go of my hand. "I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Gabriel Hayes." 

I think Tom said a few other nice things, but my brain got a little fuzzy when he said the boyfriend part. I could feel myself go all soft inside. Then the man was shaking my hand. I heard my self say, "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Wright." 

"Well Gabe," Steve Wright said, meeting my eyes. "I should thank you for your patience lately. Tom's been putting in a lot of extra hours. I hope that hasn't been too hard on you."

"Umm, no," I replied. And in truth, Tom hadn't allowed his work to intrude into our time together at all. He could have, and I wouldn't have minded. At least that is what I told myself. But Tom had made such an effort to support me and encourage me that I often forgot how hard he worked. "Tom has been the model boyfriend. I'm incredibly fortunate." And as I said this, I squeezed his hand to let him know I meant it. He squeezed back.

"Gabe has a show of his artwork opening tonight, and we're headed over there in a little while to celebrate." Tom said with obvious pride in his voice. 

"Excellent, you too deserve to have a little fun," Steve Wright said. 

As we finished with the obligatory small talk, I saw Amy in the conference room talking with a few colleagues. She gave me a little wave when she looked up and noticed me in the hall. Soon, Steve walked away and Amy bounded out and practically tackled me with a hug. 

"Gabe sweetie," Amy cried. "Tom was fantastic -- he convinced everyone that we can handle this project in our sleep."

I beamed at Tom. He would never brag on himself, so I was glad he had Amy to do it for him. "It's just one of his amazing super powers."

Amy stood and just smiled at us a little too long and finally said, "I don't think I want to know the others are." 

And with that, Tom coughed and started to blush bright red. "Amy, shut up please or I will tell Henry to take away your chocolate ice cream," Tom growled.

Amy winked and then said, "Speaking of Henry and chocolate, what time at Bella's?"

"Seven o'clock," Tom responded.

"Goody," Amy beamed. "I'll call Henry and we can all grab some dinner and then head over. What do you say?"

Damn, I didn't want to give too much away, but I had to do something to get Tom to myself. Before Tom could say 'sure, sounds great', I took control of the conversation. "Sorry Amy, I made some plans already for Mr. Middleton, here." I emphasized his last name with grin. "I think we need to celebrate his victory first."

Instead of being put off or pouty, Amy seemed genuinely pleased that I said this. "Good," she said. "I'll get Henry to order in and give me a foot massage. Then we'll head to the café for dessert. Sound good?"

As we headed towards the car and I was positive that Amy was nowhere around I said, "Do you think Henry ever gets a say in what he does?"

Tom laughed and bumped into me genially. "Yeah, I think so. Mostly I think he doesn't really care much, as long as Amy is happy. That and he picks his battles carefully. If Henry stands up for himself, and really takes a stand, Amy almost always gives way. I'm not really sure how, but they seemed to have their relationship worked out."

"Maybe I should get some lessons."

Tom stopped and looked at me quizzically. "You? No way, you don't need to change a single thing. Me on the other hand, I'm not so sure about."

"Well I am," I said feigning confidence. "Then again, if we both admit total ignorance and just promise to try, we'll probably do okay." I was getting uncomfortable and pulled on Tom's hand to keep walking put he had turned into the immovable hulk. He stood his ground and tugged my hand until we were nose to nose. The kiss he gave me then was warm and assured and wiped all the temporary doubts I had about my capacity to love this man as he deserved.

Before I could take another breath, Tom's lips were pressed on mine again. His possessiveness and desire made me a little dizzy, though that could have been the oxygen deprivation. He sucked the tip of my tongue into his mouth and played with it a little before he nipped me lightly. Coming up for air, he said, "I was so nervous about the meeting today, I skipped lunch. Where are we going to dinner?"

I grinned at him and told him. "But we have a little stop to make first."

"It better be fast, or I'll start eating the dashboard."

I glanced sideways at Tom as I navigated through the city streets. He looked a little curious, apprehensive. "I can't promise it'll be fast, but I think you'll agree it was worth it."

After a few minutes, I pulled into a parking lot at the back of a nondescript building not far from the University. "Okay babe, we're here. Let's do this and then we can go eat. There's a great Thai place nearby I've wanted you to try." Suddenly nervous that this was not a good idea at all, I was ready to launch into a full-blown babble. The look of sheer surprise on Tom's face wasn't giving me any confidence either.

**Tom**

"Gabe, why did you drive us to the clinic?" My brain was going in too many directions to have any clear idea as to Gabe's plans. And Gabe looked a little guilty and nervous, so I was pretty sure he didn't mean what I hoped he did by this gesture. 

When he replied, Gabe couldn't quite meet my eyes. "Jeez Tom, maybe this was a bad idea." He looked like he wanted to grab my hand but then pulled back at the last second. He looked at the sky, the building, even the car, but not at me. "It's kind of spontaneous and all, and maybe things aren't. . . I mean, maybe we're not ready for this step. If you don't want. . . I guess I understand."




I Read A Lot Ch. 04



God, and I thought I had been nervous. I grabbed his hand and it was slick with his panicky sweat. I whispered, "Gabe, are we here to get tested? So we can have sex without condoms?" I figured it was time to talk straight and leave off any misunderstandings.

"Yeah." Gabe's eyes looked pleadingly at me when he met my gaze.

"Are you telling me that you want to be monogamous, that you aren't interested in sleeping with anyone else while we're together?" Just how much could I possibly hope for, right? I needed to understand what Gabe was offering, in terms of this relationship. This time, I figured that if I knew the ground rules going in, I knew what to expect, maybe I wouldn't be disappointed (crushed, humiliated and ashamed) when it ended.

His eyebrows pulled together but he still nodded. "More Tom. I want to be with you, but not just while we're together. I want to be with you from now on. No expiration dates, no maybe's, no halfways." He breathed out a huge breath. Gabe stared at me with trepidation in his eyes, waiting for. . . something. 

Overwhelmed. I was completely inundated with emotion and at the same time immensely relieved. Gabe has Stepping closer to Gabe, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his lips lightly. "Love you," I whispered as I ended the kiss and brushed my nose with his.

"Thanks for being the first to say it," Gabe whispered back. "I was too chickenshit."

"You're welcome," I replied and pulled back just far enough to look into his eyes. "Now if you don't say it back, I'll think I was an idiot, get really embarrassed and want to run and hide."

Gabe raised his hand and rubbed my fingertips along my jaw. "I so love you. At first I just thought you were the cutest guy I had ever seen. Then, when you asked me for that book, I knew I was a goner."

"Damn angel," I said. "You make me feel so good. I don't know if I deserve you, but I don't think I care anymore. You are the best thing in my life and I want you a part of it for as long as possible. And I think getting stuck with a needle is a small price to pay." And I grinned, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Gabe grinned back and we continued to hold hands as we made our way into the clinic. When we got closer, he started swinging his arm and bouncing like a little kid that has to go to the bathroom. I can't say that the clinic really lived up to the excitement that Gabe anticipated, but it was over quickly and we had matching band-aids to show for. In only one week, we would have our reports and even I started bouncing at that thought.

To any outside observer, it might have seemed as if two deaf mutes were having dinner together that night. We could hardly talk and we just sat there and smiled like dazed idiots most of the time. To me, I felt like a magical spell had been cast over us and I was just really enjoying the time we spent being in one another's company. I'm pretty sure there was food on the table and we probably ate it, but I was hardly aware of anything other than Gabe and his crazy amber eyes. The idea of having to go to Bella's for the opening toast before we could go home was making me a little nuts. But since I felt that Gabe had done so much for me, for us, I decided not to be a crank about it.

By the time we got to the café, we were a few minutes late and the place was already filled with the regular crowd and lots of people we both knew from work. I had been a little worried that the show wouldn't attract much attention, so I had sent around a couple of emails at work, asking people to come and see his work. Gabe must have done a similar thing. When we got there, we were greeted by lots of friendly faces.

Gabe squeezed my hand and tried to sound casual when he said, "You didn't threaten them into coming, did you? You know 'show up to my boyfriend's thing or I'll make sure you get the crap assignments'?"

I laughed and replied. "No, of course not." When Gabe gave a little sigh of relief, I said, "They know me well enough that I don't have to threaten anymore."

"Beast."

"You know it." I made little circles on the inside of his wrist until he started to look like he would melt.

From behind us I heard Isabelle's voice. "Gabe, you're here. And Tom, I'd know that back anywhere." I had no idea what she meant, but before I had much time to wonder, I found the little dynamo hugging me and pushing me towards the serving area. She told me to get us each some champagne for toasting and that she needed a moment to speak to Gabe alone. Whatever.

Amy was at the counter discussing her options for baby-friendly drinks with the staff and I eyed some chocolate.

"You know Tom," Amy said quietly to me. "He's really good."

I laughed and raised an eyebrow when I met her eyes. "Yeah, but how do you know that."

"God, you can be such a pig," she rolled her eyes at me. "Why I expect you to be more romantic or civilized just because you're gay, I have no idea."

I decided to let that go since I'd rather talk about my favorite subject. "Do you think so? I mean, is he talented? I think so, but then I'm not really objective, you know?"

Amy nodded, "Yeah, he is. His work is traditional and meticulous and incredibly well done. It's possible that if he didn't bring such emotion to his paintings and sketches, it might look a little cold. But somehow, even in the sketches, he seems to bring out feelings and provoke thought."

"Damn Amy, you sound like an art critic." This was a side to my friend I hadn't known. "Where do you learn to talk like that?"

She slugged my arm for that. "Sometimes, when I'm not working for you or watching Frisbee, I read and go to museums, you idiot."

We got our tray of decadence from the server and found a back table when I noticed that Gabe was trying to get my attention. He was standing with a group of people, in front of the biggest canvas and it looked like they were getting ready to toast. I excused myself to Amy and made my way over to Gabe. Once I had a glass of champagne in my hand the toasting started.

As Isabelle started talking about the wonderfulness that is Gabe, I let my eyes wander to the painting behind me. It wasn't huge, maybe three feet by four feet and hanging portrait-wise down the wall. This had been the one painting Gabe had been a little secretive about, not wanting me to see, which of course made me completely curious. But I had been able to resist the temptation and had stolen a peek. Now, as everyone talked, I looked behind me and saw what I thought was my ass.

Thank God, it wasn't just my ass, but also my hand, back and shoulders, too. In the painting, a man (me, I think) was turned to face a bookcase and he was reaching for a book just above eye-level, but within reach. Now that I was this close, I could see what Amy had been saying about meticulous detail. The hand was flexed to touch, but didn't quite. The shoulders, under the obviously soft material were stretched just a bit. The jeans were baggy, like the man had been sitting down for a long time. The detail was crazy. It was like I could almost watch my hand touch the book, feel the texture of the spine. 

In the corner, front of the painting was the reading chair, and I recognized it as the one in Gabe's old apartment. When we were first together, I used to sit in it, before I realized that Sandra's couch was more comfortable. A little calendar popped up behind my eyes and I started to count the days and weeks backwards. Gabe had been working on this a long time. It was proof, of a sort. He had cared for me almost from the beginning of our friendship. He had felt strongly enough about me to think about me, draw me, paint me. Maybe I wasn't the only one who was serious about us. A lump I couldn't swallow began to form in my throat and I drank some hard swallows of champagne to make it go away.

All this time, I had been nervous that I was the only one of us who really wanted us to be together. I thought I had been the one reaching and stretching for something I wasn't sure I could have. This painting told me that not only did Gabe see that, but he could feel our connection and felt the same. And he had felt that a long time before last night. 

At that moment a cheer went up in the café and the final toast had been drunk. The whole toasting thing had completely passed me by and I found myself staring into Gabe's eyes. Those amazing amber eyes held fear, expectation, hope and love and he was looking straight at me.

"What do you think," Gabe leaned into me and whispered.

I pulled back and tried to breathe. "I'm overwhelmed." And all could do as wrap my arms around Gabe, bury my face in his neck and breathe him into me, more elemental than air. Somewhere off at a very great distance, I could hear another cheer go up.

Gabe murmured in my hair, "Shhh. I've got you, I've got you now." Over and over, he crooned as if I were a child, or someone precious, or his lover. I knew I would never be able to forget the feeling of his arms holding me, just like I would never forget the sensation of my arms holding him, waking with him curled into my body.

When we finally entered the real world again, I was able to see a whole room full of people who cared about us, not just one or the other, but us. If I had really thought about it, I probably would have been embarrassed to have had such an intimate moment in a public place like that. But somehow, it didn't really matter. I didn't feel alone in the world anymore, with a boyfriend like Gabe and a crowd of friends. 

"You never were alone, you big ape," Henry said later when I told him how I felt. "Maybe with Gabe, you'll be able to see that better."

Leave it to Henry to tell me the truth and forget to be gentle about it. 

The evening went on a bit longer and I ended up talking to tons of people. That part was tons easier than I usually think it will be. My boss was there and I totally forgot to be nervous. Parties and events like this usually made me want to sit in a corner and read until it was time to go home. This time at least, I felt okay, even happy to spend time with actual people instead of fictional characters. 

Finally though, I was ready to be done with crowds and I wanted to be with only one person, and I didn't feel like sharing. As we climbed the stairs to my apartment with Gabe following me, I heard his voice.

"Did you notice the title?"

"Nope, what was it? 'The guy who ignored the world around him'?" I snarked.

"Ouch. No, it wasn't that bad. Part of me wanted to mention your name, but instead I called it 'I Read a Lot.' Not very original or inspired, but it was what occurred to me." I could hear Gabe's shoulders shrug.

Having reached the top of the stairs, I turned and faced Gabe as he stepped up to face me. "Thank God I have a little bit more going on in my life now," I said as I tugged him to me by pulling on his shirt front. Before I started kissing him, I decided I should probably get the door unlocked get inside the apartment.

Gabe had no restraint and nibbled my neck as I concentrated on the lock. He chewed up to my ear and husked, "I hope it's a little more than just a little more, especially after last night."

"Cut it out or we'll be out here all night," I growled back and pushed him back a little to make my point. 

Gabe let me finish with the locks and then he pushed me into the apartment and practically attacked me. In those porn stories I hadn't needed to read for a while, some guy would often muscle the other against a door, kissing him senseless and generally dominating him in an incredibly sexy way. All I can say is that it looked to me like Gabe had read a few of those stories, too. And I kind of liked it.

Words trickled into my brain as Gabe chewed on my ear and worked the belt of pants loose. I vaguely heard things like, 'mine now,' 'kissed me in front of your boss,' 'want every bit of you,'. 

It was driving me a little frantic; the groping, the kissing and talking. Never had anyone wanted me this much, I had never been this important to another person, and it was the one man I realized I loved. Finally, my head began to spin and I was dizzy with the need to be closer to Gabe, as close as I possibly could be.

"Not yet," Gabe whispered. He had felt my need yet he still held the reins tonight. "I want to look at you, I want to undress you and see all of you."

A groan of desire and frustration left my throat. Screw that. 'Look later, fuck me now,' I thought with mounting impatience. Instead, I followed Gabe into my bedroom, lit only by the lambent rays of the streetlights and the full moon. By now I was half dressed fighting for a deep breath of air. Ultra-sensitive to his every touch, my skin begged to be caressed and caressed.

Gabe took a step to me and seemed to glow in my eyes, catching and bending the moonlight until he was luminous. He caught my eyes and held them, his irises cat-like and shining in the near-dark, as he slowly slipped the buttons of my shirt free and then slid it from my shoulders. Off came the pants and the rest until I stood before him completely naked, exposed and wholly at ease with everything that lay between us. 

"You're magnificent, you know," Gabe husked in a needy whisper as he trailed fingers over my shoulders. Behind me now, he allowed his fingers to caress the muscles of my back, the globes of ass, the length of my legs. "I could draw you only you and never get bored."

When Gabe rose to his feet behind me, I only had a moment to register that somehow he had undressed too before I felt overwhelmed by him. He was pressed to my back, from calf to earlobe and every inch in between. His height advantage allowed me to lean back into him, tilt my head to rest on his shoulder and let him take the lead. His hands roamed over my chest, nipple by nipple, and he explored the little places that made me groan and whimper. With my mouth close to his ear, he heard each little gasp and moan. And all the while, his incredibly exquisite erection pressed into my lower back, a promise of more pleasure to come.

"Hmm, not the nipples much?" Gabe joked as he fondled my chest.

"Not as much as you," I managed to reply as he found just the right squeezing pressure and I hissed with arousal. "Maybe." He chuckled in my ear.

"What about lower?" Gabe soothed and moved a hand lower, tracing the whorls of my chest and belly hair, following it lower. "Anything down there need some attention?" By now he was teasing me by grinding his cock into my back, holding one hip to give himself better friction. We rocked back and forth achingly slow to some unheard rhythm in the dark of my room, as he explored every inch of me and I fought my instincts to let him.

When Gabe finally reached my aching dick, he grazed my neck with his teeth and I nearly came in the spot. The simultaneous sensations brought up to and nearly over the edge of ecstasy so fast, little spots of bright light flashed before my closed eyes.

"Shhh," Gabe cooed behind me. "Not quite yet, baby. I want more than that." And he soothed me with his sweet, calming words, and brought me back from the verge of completion, but not very far back. All the while, he mumbled his endearments and told me how much he wanted me. 

"Yesyesyesyesyes," I answered him back. It was a mantra, a demand, a plea. I needed the end to come before I exploded in the night and shattered so completely I wasn't sure I would ever find the pieces again. Gabe had to set me free from feeling so much.

The bed was a few feet away and we moved to it as one, united person, one body joined with sweat and longing. Behind me still, Gabe lay me on my side and resumed the rhythmic undulating of his body against mine, only now the goal was becoming (thankfully) more evident. I brought Gabe's top leg between mine and pushed my ass towards him, hoping he got the idea that I was more than okay with him topping. I'd done it before, but never had I wanted it so badly that I thought I might go crazy without it.

Gabe rumbled behind me, words and sounds melding, "Won't want to leave you if I do, Tom. No one else, no one else, just you. Inside you, all around me." 

His noises, like a personal soundtrack, went on, winding me tighter and tighter. "Under the pillow," I groaned as I leaned back, reached behind me and grabbed his dick, feeling the silky, juicy tip and rubbing the slickness around the crown with my thumb. "Before I scream."

"Hmm, scream, shout," Gabe mused and could feel him fumbling for the lube and condoms. He shoved one into my hand and I sensed the splash of cold lubed on my fingers. "Roll it on baby, all the way down." As I did, I felt his slippery fingers slide down the cleft between my cheeks and then tease the sensitive skin around my tight hole. Circles and rubs and prods and then his finger inside as I groaned at the awareness. 

"Yes," I whimpered with momentary relief. I curled my body forward, pushing my ass towards Gabe's touch. Pretty soon though, it wasn't enough. My hands grabbed blankets and pillows, looking for some leverage, some way to push back into Gabe, to deepen the invasion. I pushed and writhed, helpless and unable to get enough of him. I was beginning to feel a little frantic and desperate. Finally, when I thought I might become dizzy, he was there. The length of Gabe's body was pressed into me, from foot to forehead, hot and taut and he was at least as desperate as I was. 

"I'm here now," Gabe whispered into my ear. "I'm right here with you." And with a push and a thrust we were joined. No huge, stabbing pain just pressure and stretching of opening my body to accept him into me. The pain of being alone and feeling like I would always be that way had been agony. This minor discomfort was a celebration, proof that were together.

I groaned and grabbed his hip to bring him as close to me as possible. "Oh yeah, that's good," I groaned. Then I leaned forward and opened up more to him, letting him have as much room to move as we both needed. 

Gabe's words washed over me as I tried to hang on. He had shifted over me and started moving in this completely erotic writhing motion that was driving me crazy. His dick must have had some sort of homing device that targeted my prostate because it every thrust pushed, rubbed and stroked it until I thought the top of my head was going to melt and my brain would explode.

"Can't hold it back, hurry, oh fuck, yeah," I was babbling. By now Gabe was pounding into me with a series of noises that had no relation to words anymore. He pushed into me over and over and all I knew was that I never wanted it to be over. I never wanted this feeling of giving myself to Gabe and taking him into me to over. 

Every muscle I had screamed in defiance. This couldn't go on forever, even if I wanted it to. Pushing my head back toward his, I heard him whisper "Now. It's my turn to feel it." Damn, that did it. Cum gushed out of me as Gabe gave one almighty last thrust into my sensitive ass.

Is falling asleep really that different from passing out? High emotions, stress, exhaustion and sex all combined together in that one climax and I don't think either of us regained consciousness until the next morning. We woke, blessed out and half strangled by the bed sheets. It was quite a way to start our life together.

** Epilogue**

I still read a lot. The books have changed and my apartment is crammed full of canvases and all of Gabe's other stuff, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Lately, I have been reading "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and every book about travelling in France I can find. 

After we moved the last of Gabe's things out of Sandra's apartment, I decided that it was ridiculous that he had never been to Europe to see some of the artists he had studied in school. I mean, I know he has that whole starving artist thing going on, but I figured that I could be his Sugar Daddy, at least this time.