Matt
“WHAT can I get you boys?” The waitress glanced between me and Mikah, eyebrows arching toward her blonde hairline.
Mikah’s cheeks, already pink from the cold wind, flushed red. “Uh, sorry. I’ll need a second.” He scanned the menu while I placed my order for a Teton Amber Ale and fried chicken. Seeming distracted from the moment he followed Moose and me into the warm, softly lit restaurant, Mikah hadn’t even looked at the menu. Since we sat down, he’d alternated between taking giant gulps of water, shredding his napkin, and glancing down at Moose where he lay under the table. I couldn’t tell if the guy was nervous or just really wasn’t into the date anymore. Maybe he’d been hoping for a fast hookup instead of dinner?
“And for you?”
“I’ll do the gnocchi and the IPA, please.” Mikah gave the waitress a polite smile and handed over his menu.
Her pen paused on her notepad, and her heavily lined eyes swept over Mikah’s thin frame, clad in a slightly ratty gray sweater. “Can I get a real quick look at your ID?” She looked half-apologetic, half-suspicious as Mikah fumbled for his wallet and handed her a Massachusetts driver’s license.
The moment she walked away, I couldn’t resist the urge to tease Mikah. “You still get carded, huh? Hey, enjoy it while you can. I never get asked.”
Mikah shook his head and sifted his fingers through his hair, pushing the tousled curls back from his face. With some effort I focused on our conversation instead of my very sudden, very strong desire to touch him. “Ugh. It happens all the fucking time. There’s no way I look under twenty-one either.” When I only shrugged in response, Mikah narrowed his eyes at me. “Wait, how old are you, anyway, Mr. I Never Get Carded?”
I barked out a laugh. “Twenty-nine. But even when I used to try and underage drink, I usually got away with it. Guess I always looked old or somethin’.”
“Ooh, underage drinking, huh? You were definitely edgier than me. The only time I ever drank underage was when my mom bought some super-rare wine she wanted us to try for ‘educational purposes.’” He made air quotes around the words. “That and a few times with my weirdo boyfriend.”
I knew if I looked at Mikah, my feelings would be too plain on my face, so I fixed my attention on our surroundings. I definitely didn’t want him to see how stupidly, irrationally possessive I got at the mention of this boyfriend. I wanted to rub Mikah’s hunched shoulders and smooth the little wrinkle of concern between his eyebrows. Instead, I let my gaze travel from the twinkling white string lights stretched above the small bar to the sprigs of holly tucked among the bottles of wine and come to rest on the tiny fake Christmas tree shoved into a corner. It never failed to amuse me how quickly the town of Jackson transformed itself into a winter wonderland in the days after Thanksgiving. Christmas lights twined around the elk antler arches in the town square. Cheerfully decorated Christmas trees in the lobby in every hotel. Twangy versions of holiday music spilling out from every tourist store…. But who was this boyfriend, anyway? Okay, clearly trying to distract myself didn’t work.
“Weirdo boyfriend?” My voice sounded gruffer than I wanted it to.
Mikah’s full lips twisted to the side. “It’s a dumb story, honestly.” He paused, and I nodded, encouraging him to continue. “My senior year of high school, I auditioned for this spot at a conservatory. For piano. I used to be totally obsessed, but I wasn’t quite good enough. I didn’t get in. Anyway, at the audition I met this guy. I knew he was older. But I guess I thought he was at least around my age. He was actually there as an assistant or something. He asked me out for coffee, and we started dating. My first real boyfriend. Turned out he was studying music at NYU. Kind of a creep. Anyway, my family won’t let me live it down. My brother especially. It was seven goddamn years ago, but he still acts like I’m a total moron when it comes to relationships. When I got dumped a few months ago, they all acted like I was going to fall apart. I mean, yeah, it sucked to find out in a fucking letter that my boyfriend had fallen in love with someone else. But really, I’m fine. Plus, it’s kind of nice to have some time to figure out what I want to do next without having to take someone else into consideration, you know?” Mikah shook his head, looking suddenly sheepish. “And, talking about my relationship baggage is so not pleasant date conversation. Sorry. I guess I kind of suck at this.” He looked down at where Moose snoozed under the table for a long moment. “Also, your dog is being so good. Did you train him yourself or is he, like, naturally calm?”
Trying to hide the warring anger on Mikah’s behalf and amusement at his attempt to change the topic, I covered his hand with mine on the table. His skin was cold, and the tips of his fingers were white. I didn’t know what to say, so I just shook my head. I was damn rusty at this whole dating thing. Well, okay, not so much rusty as totally inexperienced. My heart hammered in my chest as I realized that this was my first actual date with a man. Quick and dirty hookups with tourists and closeted ranchers didn’t leave a lot of space for sharing a meal or conversation.
I glanced at Mikah, his eyes fixed on our joined hands. He was beautiful. But the beauty wasn’t only in his lush mouth, straight eyebrows, and long delicate nose. It was more than the spill of long inky lashes over alabaster skin and that damn gorgeous tumble of messy hair. His beauty was in his energy, a little hard and guarded on the surface, but dynamic and captivating underneath. My mind drifted to the assortment of geodes Abby had arranged in her sprawling rock collection, the dark exteriors split open to reveal a glittering world of color. I shook my head at myself. No wonder I hadn’t been on any dates. Here I was, sitting in silence and mentally comparing the guy I was with to a rock.
The waitress breezed by our table, delivering our beers and pinning us with a big grin. I gave Mikah’s hand a squeeze, and he smiled shyly. “It sounds like your family cares a lot about you,” I said belatedly. “They were cool with you being gay and all?”
Mikah snorted. “Yeah. My mom was totally awesome about it. Well, awesome but also kind of intense…. She works in the fashion industry, and she has a lot of queer friends. She kept having people over to, like, mentor me on gayness. My dad didn’t care either way. Plus, Elena’s queer too, and she was always super open about it. Weirdly, even though I knew they’d be cool with it, I was terrified to come out for some reason. The first person I told was my nonna, uh, my grandmother. She still lives in Sicily, but we’re super close.” His whole demeanor softened at the mention of his grandmother. “I wrote her this long-ass letter revealing that I was into guys. The angst was, truly, out of this world with teenage me. And even though she’s like a total badass feminist who raised my dad and his sisters on her own, I was so worried. Right after I put the letter in the mail, I broke down and called her, which cost a fucking fortune because we ended up talking for, like, three hours. She was so great about it. She was just like, ‘Your feelings are yours, caro. Be good to yourself and the ones you love. That’s all you can do.’ She’s like a walking self-help book.”
I grinned at his impression of his grandmother, his voice slipping into a soft, heavily accented register. Talking about his family seemed to relax Mikah.
“Sorry, I feel like I’m talking about myself a lot.” Mikah rolled his eyes. “What about you?”
My body wanted to tense up, but I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. I could focus on the present. The toddler at the table next to ours squealed with laughter as her big brother made silly faces. A gray-haired woman reached to adjust her companion’s collar, clucking her tongue fondly. Soft, jazzy Christmas music emanated from the small radio on the shelf behind the bar. Mikah was looking at me expectantly, his hand still in mine.
“My parents never knew about me being gay, or anything. They died when I was in high school. Never got the chance to tell them.”
“Matt….” Mikah’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know what to say. Shit. I’m so sorry.”
Pressing my lips together, I gave a quick shake of my head. “Nah. It’s fine.” Mikah didn’t look convinced. “But yeah, my brother has always been supportive. I didn’t even have to come out. He mentioned, real casual, one afternoon that some girl was planning to ask me out. And he was like, ‘But you aren’t into girls, right?’ I was so surprised I couldn’t really deny it. Just warning you, if you meet him again, he’s gonna be a huge pain in the ass. Ever since he saw….” I wasn’t sure how to describe exactly what John had walked in on.
“Me dry humping you like my life depended on it?”
A laugh burst from me a little too loud, causing a few people to shoot amused looks in our direction. “Sure. But John’s been relentless since. Dude’s convinced you and I are soul mates or something.” Heat bloomed on my cheeks. That had been a weird thing to admit. But Mikah gave me a soft smile as a comfortable silence settled between us. The waitress delivered our food, and I worried Mikah would actually spontaneously combust when she cheerfully commented that we looked good together. His blush was pretty damn endearing, though.
I devoured my chicken. It was delicious, with perfectly seasoned, crispy skin and tender dark meat. I existed in a state of perpetual hunger, so eating was definitely one of my favorite things to do. When I glanced at Mikah, his brown eyes were wide.
“What?” I asked, having to remind myself not to talk with my mouth full. Table manners were never a big priority in the Haskell household.
“You eat so fast!” Mikah’s voice was high with surprise.
“And you’re not eating at all.” I gestured with my fork to his untouched plate of food.
“It’s still superhot. Plus, I’m sure they’re delicious, but these are not gnocchi.” He narrowed his pretty eyes at the crisp dumplings like they might jump up and bite him.
I glanced at the menu written on a chalkboard next to the kitchen door. “It says Parisian…. So I guess they’re French? I don’t know much about food.” I didn’t want to admit that I had no earthly idea what gnocchi were, never mind what they were supposed to look like.
“Hmm.” Mikah eyed his plate again before taking a bite. His eyes fluttered closed and he chewed slowly. My blood heated in my veins. “Okay, these are actually pretty fucking great. You want to try one?”
Food was the last thing on my mind at the moment, but I nodded. Mikah held out his fork to me, and when my eyes darted from the outstretched utensil to his face, his cheeks flushed. Had he wanted to feed me the bite of food?
“Um, here.” Mikah stared down at the table as he rushed to hand me the fork. I tried real hard not to chuckle at how sweet he was.
Whatever it a gnocchi was, it tasted delicious: buttery crisp on the outside, light and fluffy inside. Really, though, all I wanted to taste was Mikah’s mouth.
The front door of the restaurant banged open, frigid air and a swirl of snowflakes fluttering the heavy red curtain meant to keep out the cold. A loud group of skiers decked out in expensive coats bounded in laughing and, unfortunately, holding the door open for long enough that the temperature in the dining room probably dropped a good five degrees. The crisp wind was a relief on my lust-heated skin, but Mikah shivered. Without thinking I unzipped my hoodie and moved my chair around the table, draping my sweatshirt over his slim shoulders as I tucked my body in close to his. Moose perked up under the table at the commotion for a minute before snuffling back to sleep.
“Oh my God. Are you even real?” Mikah dropped his head on my shoulder as he spoke. My mouth curved up. We both got back to eating, me pulling my plate across the table to finish my last few bites of food while Mikah methodically enjoyed his. His movements were graceful, fluid. Close like this, I let myself watch the sharp bones of his jaw working as he chewed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Damn, why was watching him eat getting me hard? I glanced down at his throat again, noticing for the first time the gold chain around his neck. A small pinwheel symbol of a woman’s face with three legs spiraling around it hung in the center. It was weirdly beautiful.
“What is that?” I gently grasped the pendant between two fingers.
Mikah glanced down at his chest. “Oh, it’s the Trinacria. The symbol of Sicily. The head in the middle is supposed to be Medusa, and the three legs represent… something? My nonna explained it to me about a million times, but I always forget the specifics. But yeah, it used to belong to my grandfather. He died when my dad was a baby. My nonna gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday, and I’ve worn it ever sense.” He lifted a shoulder, looking a little embarrassed.
“I like it,” I said softly, momentarily giving in to the desire to trail my fingers up Mikah’s throat to his jaw.
Mikah’s lips fell open and he gasped softly. His eyes were heated as he set his fork down and cuddled in even closer. I wanted to cup my hand around the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine. I had a feeling, though, that making out in the middle of a busy restaurant might not be the best idea. Jackson was undoubtedly the most liberal town in Wyoming, but it wasn’t that liberal. So I settled with brushing my thumb over his lips and catching our server’s eye to ask for the check.
As we stepped into the cold night air, fluffy snowflakes drifted around us, shimmering in the glow of the streetlight. Instinctively, I tipped my head back to look up at the sky. Nights out here never got old. Usually, the sky was so full of stars, it seemed more light than darkness. Tonight, though, a gray wash of clouds drifting and twisting in the wind obscured the display. Next to me Mikah fumbled with the zipper on his gigantic borrowed coat.
“Can I walk you to your car?” I bumped his shoulder with mine.
“How about I walk you to yours?” He offered me an impish grin, and my mouth stretched into a smile. The smile grew impossibly wider as Mikah grasped my hand in his and tugged me in the direction of where I’d parked. Moose padded along behind us, pausing every few trees to sniff and dig at the snow.
For a small guy, Mikah was surprisingly strong as he pushed me against the door of my truck, slid his hands into my unzipped jacket, grabbed the back of my sweatshirt, and pulled me against him. The moment our lips connected, a sharp pang of lust twisted low in my stomach, and I groaned. Everything about Mikah made me melt, made me want things I knew I could never have. He licked into my mouth, as eager and giving as he’d been last time. The sound of his soft moans and the citrusy smell of his hair made me almost light-headed.
“God, I want you so bad.” I was hyperaware of my racing heart, the buzzing tightness of my skin. Each touch felt electric.
“Me too,” Mikah breathed, “but I should head home. Apparently everyone’s waiting on me to decorate the tree.” He rolled his eyes.
I smiled to hide my disappointment. “Okay. You want to get together again, though?”
Mikah tipped his face up to lock his eyes with mine for a long moment. “Why is this so easy with you?” His voice was soft, tentative.
Because I like you. Maybe too much. Because you give me something I need but didn’t know I was missing. The words stayed inside. I bent to press a gentle, almost chaste kiss to Mikah’s swollen lips.
“Get home safe,” I murmured against his chilled skin. Dazed, I stood motionless among the whirling snow, watching until Mikah was swallowed by the dark.