Bits and Pieces

Shoot (part 3)

*because you're greedy and I'm an addict*

I tapped my foot impatiently as Mitch got down the wine glasses and pulled a bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge. A part of me wanted something stronger, but I also wanted my wits about me, needed to be ready to repay him for his good deeds back at the overlook.

Mitch didn't seem in any sort of hurry though. Either he was confident enough in me or his ability to persuade me that he could be patient, or else he'd just been teasing me. I prayed it wasn't the latter.

He filled our glasses and clinked the rim of his against mine. "To a successful Monday that wasn't boring," he said, which I suppose was an accurate enough statement to use as a toast. I inclined my glass in his direction and took a deep sip. I needed the wine's natural depressive qualities to kick in and slow my racing heart.

Mitch stared at me for a moment before rolling his eyes. "Alright, out with it."

"What?"

"I can see the wheels in your brain just cranking away. You have something you want to say to me. Spit it out."

"I always have lots of things to say to you," I hedged, but he didn't buy it. I gave a small sigh and took another drink. "I feel like we are always on the edge of a fairly big conversation lately, but I don't want to ruin whatever we have going, and I don't know..."

"Is this about us dating or fucking, or what?" His tone wasn't cold or detached exactly, but he certainly handled the words better than I would have, crisply and succinctly.

"It's about all of it," I told him. "I love you, as you know. And more than that, I like you. We're good together in every possible way. But we keep missing it."

"And you think that's my fault," Mitch said. It wasn't a question, and again he didn't sound overly emotional.

"No, God no!" I jumped in. "It's no one's fault exactly. Just shitty timing. But now..."

"Now the timing is perfect, and you're wondering why I'm not naked on your doorstep." In a different tone, those words would have been accusatory and argumentative. But he was grinning, poking his tongue out to wet his lower lip. I had to swallow the lump in my throat.

"I...I'm..." I didn't know what to say. Not at all.

"It's fine. I ask myself the same question every damn day," he said, draining his glass and going immediately for a refill.

"You do?"

"Definitely. I've wanted you since I was old enough to know what wanting a boy even means. Like a solid decade of wanting you. But like you said, shitty timing and every other obstacle that can get in the way. And it really is my fault, this time around anyway."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"Because I've been actively fighting it," he replied, looking irritated. "Pushing subtly for more time apart, making other friends, pushing the limits with my appearance. You could say I'm growing into myself or maybe I'm just testing you."

"Testing me?"

"To see if you still love me. If you still like me."

"Are you fucking serious?" I asked. This made me angry on quite a few levels. Did he think any of those tests would make me care for him less? Did he do any of this for himself or... No, if I was the center of his thought process, if he made personal choices like that with me in mind, I didn't want to know.

"Maybe somewhere, buried deep in my subconscious, I did those things to test you," he admitted. "That sucks and I'm sorry. But every time we have sex I'm always so sure that it's going to lead to me having to make some permanent decisions. And I always think I'm ready to make them. But then, something pulls our focus and we move on."