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Try as he might, Will just couldn’t shake off the—well, to be honest—the jealousy that came from reading Karl’s invitation. All the way to the restaurant, the news rung in his ears. He couldn’t say he liked his reaction. Of course he was also thrilled for his friend, but shouldn’t it have only been that? Why did the green-eyed beast have to wake and immediately start twisting his insides?
The only thing that kept the beast from getting really riled was having Heath next to him, their pinkies crossed on the console. He had something just as amazing as Karl! And they were off to celebrate that tonight. He heard Heath’s words and smiled: I want this to be special.
He jumped out of the Commodore as soon as Heath had parked, and snagged his guy into a short, sweet kiss before they walked down the hill to Macaroons.
“What was that for?” Heath asked.
“Does there need to be a reason?”
“I like you excited.” At the restaurant, Heath gestured toward the double doors. “Shall we?”
Inside was bustling with customers and wait-staff, and spices and heavenly aromas filled the air, beckoning them further inside, all the way to their reserved table. Everything was perfect, from the décor to the lighting to the music. Only when their waiter arrived to serve them, did it hit a snag.
A small one in Will’s mind. But for Heath maybe not so much; he quickly pulled his hand away from where it rested next to his.
“Rory! I thought you said you weren’t working tonight?”
“Alicia called in sick. I’ve got her tables.” He eyed the two of them with more than a hint of suspicion.
Will rested back in his chair, stifling the urge to roll his eyes. Because of course Rory would be working tonight. The universe loved throwing these twists in his face. Though it was hardly that much of a twist. Like that first day he’d eyed up Heath at the airport—he should have guessed what’d happen.
After they’d ordered their drinks and Rory had walked away frowning, Heath sighed. “Sorry, Will. It was stupid to book us in here.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re not bothered?”
He shrugged. “He has to find out eventually.”
Heath whipped his head fervently from side to side. “Not tonight, Will.”
Will scanned the menu Rory had left him. “He may already be piecing it together. We’re just the two of us having dinner.” He lifted his fingers to the flame over the tea candles. “Over candlelight. . . ”
“Damn.” Heath searched the restaurant for any sign of Rory. “Well that makes this much less romantic than I’d wanted.”
Will shut the menu. “Don’t let that stop you. He’s not sitting at our table, Heath, he’s busy working. We’ll barely see him once we order.”
Translation: Please still say the words to me.
“I hope you’re right.”
He was.
Mostly. After they’d ordered and the food arrived—with more eye-narrowing on Rory’s part—they were left alone.
Heath’s foot gently rubbed at his ankle. “How do you like your meal?”
Will tasted another forkful of the fish—next to and not on the bed of rice. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”
Heath bit his lip, his blue eyes dancing in the candlelight. “Okay, I can’t wait any longer.”
Will straightened, quietly placing the fork on the plate. “Wait any longer?”
“To tell you.”
Oh, yes, world, thank you. This was requited in the way he wanted it to be. He watched Heath’s lips quirk, his fingers tapping on the table with barely contained excitement before running them through his hair. Will tried to tamp down his smile, to look like he had no idea what Heath was about to say. But he couldn’t pretend for more than a second. He loved this guy. Really, truly loved him. And this moment was about to become a memory he wished to cherish forever. His smile burst out of its confines and he watched the effect it had on Heath, lighting his face up, too, his eyes glowing bluer than he’d ever seen them.
“Making you happy like this is the best feeling,” Heath said and twisted to pull something out of his jacket, hanging on the chair. He pushed a folded piece of paper toward him.
He picked it up slowly. What was this? Had he written something to go with those magical words? A poem came to mind, and he almost choked on a laugh at the thought. No way was that Heath’s style. Too cringe-like for sure.
“Open it,” Heath urged.
All right then. He unfolded and read. He frowned, confused at the words on the paper for a moment. Then it all became clear.
“It’s an itinerary,” Heath said. “I remember you mentioned once that you wanted to go to Stewart Island. So, next month, we’re going. A whole week, just you and me. And no bikes this time.” He laughed. “I promise.”
His hopes plummeted and he had difficulty drawing in a breath. He felt like he was the Jack in the Box wound up so tight he should have burst free, but something had gone wrong, and he was trapped with no way out. He wanted to be ecstatic and excited, bouncing around; happy for being given such a thoughtful gift, but instead of all that, the green-eyed beast—already lurking in him from earlier—took charge, poisoning his veins with disappointment.
He struggled to fight it, forcing a smile. “Oh that’s great.” It was. It really was. Show it more, dammit! “Good foresight with the bikes—or lack thereof.”
“Thought you’d appreciate it. God, I can’t wait for it to be just us two in the nature again—no rules stopping us from enjoying every little bit of it. . . .”
“Yeah. No rules.”
They ate more of their dinner, Will picking at things without much appetite, rather using his energy to keep the conversation light. But maybe he wasn’t doing such a great job against the beast inside, because it wasn’t long before Heath frowned. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Um, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Declare? Say?
“Nope, you can go right ahead.”
He took a large gulp of water to ease the lump in his throat. “So . . .” he fingered his napkin, wiping his clean hands on it as if they needed it. “I got something in the mail today.”
“A postcard from Benny and James? Finally.”
“No. It was—” but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Just thinking about the card had him losing the battle to the beast, and his next words tumbled out his mouth. “What are our plans after next semester?”
Heath jerked in surprise for a second, then looked down at his fork. He shoveled some potato on it but didn’t bring it to his mouth. “I don’t know.”
“You have no ideas at all?”
“It’s too far, Will. I just want to focus on the now and on finishing my honors degree next semester.”
Heath had never thought about them and their expiry date at all? That didn’t exactly bode well. Suddenly, he wasn’t just not hungry anymore, he felt sick.
“But I am thinking in terms of next month,” Heath said, inclining toward the itinerary for their trip to Stewart Island. “That counts for something, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
Maybe.
Not enough.
Because if this was real, if this relationship was The One, wouldn’t Heath know it already? Wouldn’t he know exactly what he wanted like Will did? Like Sig and Candice did? Like Karl and Paul?
Did that mean this wasn’t love for him? Wasn’t The One? Was this just a fun and wonderful In Transit affair to Heath? Not the destination?
“Please, Will, let’s just enjoy what we have.”
For the time we have it, went unsaid, but Will heard the words as if they had permeated his heart.
“I do enjoy what we have,” he said.
Heath sighed, sounding relieved. “Good.”
“I also love you.”
Say it back to me.
When Heath didn’t acknowledge his words at all except to keep eating, he thought maybe he hadn’t heard him. “Did you hear what I said to you?”
Heath sliced his Portobello mushroom. “Yes, I heard you.”
“You heard me?” he repeated dumbly.
Oh.
There it was, confirmed.
Heath didn’t love him back.
He pushed his chair back. “Excuse me, I need the bathroom.” But before he could stand, Heath snatched his hand.
“Don’t. You’re upset.”
Upset? Upset? That didn’t even begin to cover it. His heart had just shattered. “I really need to go.” He fished for his wallet, drew out enough cash to cover his meal, with tip, and dumped it on the table.
“Are you kidding me?” Heath said. “Sit back down. I can’t believe you’re going to—to throw a tantrum just because I don’t say the words back to you.”
Tantrum? That’s what he called the mess of emotions reigning him right now?
“Why can’t you say the words back to me? I thought—” his voice broke. “I guess I was wrong.” He laughed. Just like he had been with Karl. Only this time the pain was so much worse. It felt like if he didn’t soon get out of there, he’d drown on the sobs he was choking back.
“No, I can’t say those words. I haven’t been able to for months—which is why I fake sleep when you whisper them to me at night—but—”
In ultimate bad timing, Heath glanced to the right. Not six feet from them, Rory as well as the table he was waiting on, was watching them.
“Fuck,” Heath cursed. As he went to grab his wallet and throw more money onto the table, Will picked up his jacket, zigzagged around the tables and hurried out of the doors.
The fresh air sliced into his lungs and he retched into the gutter.
Doors banged behind him. Out spilled Heath. He barely managed more than “What the hell—” when the doors opened again.
“Fuck, Heath,” came Rory’s voice. “What was that back there?”
Heath, flustered, threw a hand in Will’s direction. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“Are you two . . . Fuck, Heath,” he said with a sneer, “are you boyfriend to this fag?”
Heath said nothing. He didn’t defend him, didn’t acknowledge anything they had. Because what they had didn’t mean as much to him. He didn’t love him.
Will uncurled himself from the gutter. In his hurt, he couldn’t stop the next words pouring from his mouth. “Ex-boyfriends, all right? We’re ex-boyfriends. And fuck off.”
Heath stepped back like he’d been slapped in the face; he glanced away from Rory to him.
“That’s disgusting,” Rory said and banged his way back into the restaurant without a second glance at them.
Heath shifted from foot to foot, and Will closed his eyes preparing for Heath’s next words. The anger he’d have for outing him. He didn’t know what to expect, only that Heath wouldn’t punch him like Karl had, but not because he wouldn’t want to.
“Ex-boyfriends?” Heath said, surprise and . . . was that hurt in his voice? He opened his eyes and looked up at Heath closing his jacket more tightly around him.
Will let himself hope just a fraction. “I can’t do this if it’s just a fling for you. That—that hurts too much. I need to hear you say what you really feel about me.”
Heath slowly shook his head, his frown deepening. “I know what you want to hear, but I can’t say that.”
His voice croaked out of him, and he twisted away from the man he’d let himself so stupidly fall for. “Then, yes, ex-boyfriends.”
With that he charged around the corner, half hoping Heath would run after him, and knowing he wouldn’t. Why would he when Heath didn’t love him back?