CATALYST

TRAVIS

         It wasn't the damn whiskey.

      He was lying. About some of it, at least. I could hear it in the tone of his voice, defensive and insistent, and see it in his face—a carefully controlled mask.

      But why?

      As I finished watering the flowers, I went over his remarks again in my head. I owe you an apology. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I've never done anything like that before. It must have been the whiskey. I'm not into guys at all. It didn't mean anything. Forget it happened.

      Even though I'd been prepared for it, I didn't like it.

      I didn't want his apology—I wanted his body, his attention, his permission to feel this way. I wanted to be invited in. Just...more of him. I wanted more of him.

      And it was fucking terrible and greedy and selfish of me to want more than he was willing to give. He was being so generous, and I certainly didn't feel like I deserved any of it, but I couldn't help feeling that way. I didn't even really understand it. I'd never been the guy who wanted more. Give me no-strings sex without the complications of more any day of the week.

      But this felt different. He was special to me. I wanted to be special to him.

      The more I thought about his words, the more bothered I became. Maybe it was true that he'd never done anything like that before, but he hadn't done it because he was drunk. If he hadn't said yes when I asked permission, if he hadn't been so hard in my hand, if he hadn't come so hard and so fast and so long in my mouth it nearly choked me, then maybe I'd believe it was the whiskey.

       But no. He'd done it because he'd wanted to. That's what you were thinking, David. I want this. Plain and simple. And he'd wanted it badly—enough to risk rejection. Enough to go after it hard. Enough to say fuck the consequences and put your mouth on me. I was one hundred percent certain about that.

      And maybe that was it. Maybe that's what had me a little riled up. If he'd come out here and simply said I'm sorry about the way I acted, it was a mistake, let's forget it and move on, that would be different. At least then he wouldn't be denying the truth.

      I was hurt and angry for about thirty seconds before realizing how childish I sounded.

      Jesus, Travis. Get over yourself. What good would it do for him to admit the truth? "What difference would it make? If he doesn't want more of you, there's nothing you can do about it. He's done so much for you, the least you can do is respect his feelings on this.

      A few minutes later, I turned off the hose and wound it up on the reel mounted to the side of the garage, vowing to honor his wishes. Whatever his reasons were, they were good enough for me, and as much fun as last night had been, however good it had felt to be so close to him, I'd try to forget it had happened.

      But when I went into the house and saw him at the kitchen table, my thoughts ran away from me. I want to kiss you again. I want my hands on you. I want your skin on mine.

      I couldn't think of one person who'd ever had such a powerful pull on me. It was as if gravity was somehow stronger between us, as if it wasn't a feeling at all, but an inescapable force. It left me feeling disoriented and off-center and almost powerless.

      I liked it. And I didn't like it.

      But one thing was certain—I had to keep it hidden.

   
~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~

         After lunch, during which neither of us spoke much, David brought his laptop to the kitchen table, along with pen and paper. "Let's see what's out there for apartments right now. Want to sit over here so you can see?"