“I didn’t say that.”
I scooted back, needing a little distance. “You’re still intent on a wife and kids. I’m just for fun?”
He didn’t answer fast enough, and I stood up.
“No, Derek. I don’t want that. You might think I’m just a kid, or a poor-ass immigrant, or someone just looking for a good time, but I’m not. And I don’t want to be your temporary toy while you keep looking for a woman.”
“What do you want?” He stood too. “A fucking ring?”
“No!” I took a deep breath. Getting angry at him wouldn’t help. “Look. I wasn’t looking for a relationship when I moved here. It was the furthest thing from my mind. I was prepared work really hard, as many hours as I had to every single day to make it in this country. And that’s what I’m doing. I don’t want to go backward.”
“I’m not asking you to,” he snapped.
“But you are.” I struggled with how to explain what I wanted to say. “I moved here for me. Because I have a dream for myself. Then I met you, and that dream changed.”
He moved toward me, but stopped, hands fisted at his sides. “How?”
“Now I find myself thinking about you and us as part of my dream. I came here to make a new life, and I want you to be part of it. Not in secret, like we’re ashamed of each other. Out in the open.”
He flinched. “I can’t.”
“Then I can’t, either. I don’t want to live two lives, Derek. One in public and one in private, neither of them one hundred percent me. And I don’t want to hide.” I lowered my voice even more. “I’ve lived that way already. It doesn’t feel good.”
He was silent.
“If you want to be somebody else for the rest of your life, go ahead. I don’t.”
“You don’t understand how hard this is for me,” he said through clenched teeth. “It’s not about you.”
“Is that what you think?” I moved a step closer. I wanted him to see my face. “I’ve never felt like I was good enough for you. This feels like you’re agreeing with me. And that hurts.”
“It’s not that at all!” he burst out. “You’re everything to me. And the way you make me feel—no one has ever, ever made me feel those things before. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
“But you’re willing to give that up?”
“No! That’s why I’m asking you to stay.” He grabbed my head and sealed his mouth over mine, and the temptation to say fuck it, I’ll stay for this feeling nearly overwhelmed me. He pulled back a little. “Please don’t leave. You’re the only one who understands me.”
I hesitated, feeling like I was being ripped in two. “Then that should be worth something more than this.” Gently, I pushed his arms down and walked out of the room.
He didn’t come after me.
Upstairs, I got into bed, wishing I didn’t have to sleep here. It would be hard knowing Derek was right across the hall and hurting, especially when I knew I could take away the pain. But that would only be on the surface. Deep down, he’d never be at peace with himself if he didn’t live the way he felt. If I gave in, if I stayed, he’d only keep putting that off. He’d never let me love him the way I wanted to. He’d never really let me in, even if he loved me too.
Then he would leave me.
No. It would be foolish to stay. I had to walk away, for both of us. My only hope was that he’d miss what we had enough to change the way he thought. If he didn’t, I’d have to deal with the loss and move on.
But at least I’d have given us a real chance.
After a sleepless night, I waited until I heard Derek leave for work, then I packed up my meager belongings and ordered an Uber. I left the clothing he’d loaned me folded on the stripped guest room bed, his old laptop on the kitchen table, and the house key he’d given me on the counter next to a note.
Thank you for everything. I will always be grateful.
Maxim
My head felt cloudy from the lack of sleep, but I didn’t want to make coffee in his kitchen. I would get some breakfast somewhere eventually. Right now, I just wanted to leave. The memories were getting to me.
Right there is where he kissed me for the first time.
Right there is where I dropped to my knees.
Right there is the door he knocked on in the middle of the night.
Right there is where we argued and tumbled to the ground.
Right there is where he first tasted me.
Right there is where he said I want to fuck you.
Right there is where he asked me to stay the night in his bed.
Right there is where he left me a note that said you’re cute when you’re sleeping.
And right there…right there is where he stood when I walked away.
I went out to wait on the front porch, too restless and upset to stay inside, pulling the door shut behind me. It locked with a heartless click, and that was that.
Thirty-Three
DEREK
I didn’t sleep at all.
All night I lay there, my body still sore, my mind a jumble of anger and frustration and hurt, my heart splintered into bits.
He said no. He was leaving. He didn’t want me enough to stay.
How could he do this to me? How could he make me fall for him this way, turn my life upside down, make me doubt everything I believed in and wanted and worked for, and then walk away?
He was acting like a child, wanting all or nothing. It wasn’t that simple. He didn’t get it. He didn’t know how hard it had been for me to ask him not to go. He didn’t know what it had cost me. I’d had to admit to myself that I wasn’t strong enough to bear the punishment I’d brought on myself, that I was weak weak weak, that I wanted what he made me feel more than I wanted to be straight.
Part of me knew I was being a selfish prick. That asking him to stay was a short-term fix to a long-term problem, a Band-Aid over a gaping wound. It would make me feel good temporarily, but what about the future? What if I never got him out of my system? What if things between us only got better? Or what if I met the right woman, the one who could make me fall for her, the one who could do for me what Maxim could? That was still a possibility, wasn’t it? So I should be glad Maxim had left. He’d saved me the trouble of breaking things off later.
Because all the reasons we couldn’t be together still existed. I didn’t want to be gay. I wasn’t. It was just him. This was simply a roadblock on the way to the right kind of future. A test. I’d always been good at tests, and there was no reason I couldn’t pass this one. I’d had my fun, my fling, my side trip, and now it was done.
But I punched my pillow a few times and buried my face in it, full of rage. I wished I could scream. I wished I could tear myself limb from limb. I wished I could drink myself into a stupor so that I wouldn’t feel this hopelessness, this loss, this fear that I’d never be happy no matter what I did.
It was fucking hell. But I deserved it.