To You and Back

Chapter 21: We Are Who We Are

"I will not," said Charlie heatedly, tugging on the cuffs and making them clink. "Open this. Where did you even get handcuffs?"

"I borrowed them," said Peter.

"Ugh!" Charlie made a face of disgust, backing away from them as if they weren't still attached to his hand. "Are you using someone else's sex cuffs on me right now? What is wrong with you?"

"I was desperate," Peter said. "And desperate men do desperate things. Agree to come with me and I'll take them off."

"And if I don't?"

"Then the sex cuffs stay, and I'll take you anyway."

"Is that right?" said Charlie. "And how exactly are you going to do that? You cuffed my right hand with your left. I hope you don't plan on driving anytime soon."

Peter opened his mouth as he looked down at their hands. Then he shrugged. "It's fine," he said. "We can get there on the subway."

"Where?"

"Come with me," Peter said, "and I'll tell you."

Charlie glanced around again, hesitating.

"Look," Peter said, stepping closer and taking his hand. The leather glove was cool and supple against Charlie's skin. "You made a lot of decisions about us by yourself and—"

"So did you," Charlie said, taking a half step back.

"I know," Peter said, lowering his voice. "I'm not denying that. But look where it got us. Come with me, hear me out, and then..."

Charlie looked up at him. "And then what?"

Peter sighed, his breath a delicate plume of white smoke. "And then," he said, "let's make a final decision about us—together."

Charlie looked up at him, then away. Silence. Then: "Fine," Charlie said. He looked back up at the other man. "But this is it. Whatever happens this time, no more stalking me and handcuffing me—"

"Not without consent anyway."

"Peter!"

"I know, I know," the other man laughed, then quieted. "I know," he repeated, with a smile. "This is it. Whatever happens, I'll accept it." He tilted his head to the side. "If I take these off, you won't run away, right?"

Charlie clenched his jaw, but nodded. The cuffs came off, and he rubbed his wrist, not because it hurt, but because he could still feel the cold metal ring there.

"Did I hurt you?" asked Peter, frowning.

"No," Charlie said. "Not with this." Dark eyes met blue, then blue looked away. "Come on," he added, "let's get this over with."

**

Peter sat behind the wheel, guiding the SUV through Saturday afternoon traffic in the city. Beside him in the passenger seat, Charlie sat in moody silence, arms crossed over his chest, head turned toward the window. The interior of the car was quiet, leather bound, smelling of pine and mint, the only sound the whoosh of warm air. It was only when Charlie saw Saint Patrick's Cathedral that he sat up.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"You can't guess?"

"No."

"Good."

Charlie shot him a baleful glare, and Peter smiled.

He drove up Fifth Ave to 49TH Street, and parked. "We have to walk from here," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. Charlie followed him and waited as the other man circled to the back of the SUV, where he opened the trunk and disappeared from view. When he reappeared and closed the trunk, he was holding two pairs of matching black, red and silver ice skates.