My "Straight" Neighbor

I was grounded in my chair when the girls and I returned to the fire. So many thoughts were racing through my head. What Wes told me… it made sense.

Denver told me just earlier in the week that a lot of things have happened to him in life, a lot of things to make him unhappy and to stay that way.

I didn’t pry then, I didn’t ask what those things could be. Was it family related? Is there a reason he’s so close to Roman’s? I didn’t care anymore about Misha or staring directly at him. I just needed to know, really know who I’m falling for.

And as I caught looks of him, it seemed to me that he and Roman started some intimate conversation while the girls and I were gone. Their energy was off– different. But I couldn’t pinpoint why.

The girls were in a world of their own, drunk off their asses as I sat and observed. Roman and Denver were deep in conversation, amusing the girls if they bothered them. But they were on the opposite end of the fire, Denver only glanced at me once or twice; followed by putting his head down. He’d nod, then look back at his friend.

What the fuck were they talking about?

At that point I wanted to scream. That or just forget about everything, about this; about Maryland– about him.

But as the rage built within me, Emily damn near fell into the fire pit; luckily saved my Roman who stood and grabbed her by the arm. “Okay, enough.” He sounded like his father. “You two with me,” he grabbed both of their arms; still a smirk on his lips as he laughed at them– “Can you two put out the fire?” He eyed Denver and I.

Denver nodded while I stayed silent, my eyes fixated on the man across from me. But Roman gave his friend a look, a knowing look– and walked into the darkness, a girl holding on to each arm.

It was just us again. Us and the crackling fire and mesmerizing music playing softly on a speaker. He met my gaze on the other side of the fire, its flames shaping his features.

“Is something wrong?” He asked me when we no longer heard the girls and their laughter.

I dropped my head, “I don’t know.” And I stood from my seat, walked around the bonfire and sat next to him, trying to read his expression– “Tonight’s been weird.”

He tilted his head in confusion, “What’s wrong?” He asked, placing a hand on my thigh.

I swallowed, staring in his green eyes; set ablaze from the fire burning in front of us. “I just spoke to Wes.” I said flatly, hoping he’d draw a conclusion from it.

His brows knit together and he cracked a small grin, “Wes? You know him that well already?” He teased me for not saying his full name.

I couldn’t help the smirk on my lips too, even if I was trying to slowly squeeze something out of him; he made me smile. He always had. But with fingers dragging through my curls and another glance at the roaring flames, I turned to him.

“Misha told him.” I blurted, earning the reaction I knew would come from it. His eyes went wide, he removed his hand from my thigh and rubbed his palms together; breaking eye contact as he now stared at the flames.

He groaned, “Of course she did.” He shook his head, “I imagine he cornered you to tell you that?”

“Yeah, actually.” I admitted, it must be something Wes is known for– cornering people, uncovering their secrets. Maybe it's a gay thing?

He scoffed, “He’s always been like that. Nosey, just like her.” I nodded my head in agreement, but was thoroughly surprised with how well he was taking the news. “Good thing she didn’t show tonight,” He looked at me, “I’d have gotten myself in deep shit if she did.”

I breathed a chuckle, thinking on how to execute my next words. “Are you worried?” I watched as his lips drew a thin line and he looked away; “That they know?”

He just shook his head, “I kinda figured they did.” And then his head dropped in his hands. I held my breath, I didn’t know what to say next. “You know…” He started, lifting his face from his palms; “they’ve always plotted against me.”

That was my in. “Why?” I asked, why would they do that? Why do they know you so well?

He scoffed again, “Because I became a favorite.” He stared blankly into the fire. But my confusion only grew.

“I don’t understand.” I said it plainly, softly. Favorite? What is that supposed to mean?

And then he looked at me, his eyes fallen and glossy; palms rubbing together as he mustered the courage. “I’ve never told you.” I knew that… told me what? What are you hiding? He took a deep breath, averted his eyes yet again to the fire. “Roman’s more than a friend to me…” he exhaled; “He’s a brother.”

My brows crinkled together trying to piece that together. They’re last name’s weren’t the same, did he mean that they were just that close?

“And so is Wes.” He added, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head.

I stayed silent, eyes fixated on every muscle; every breath of his. My mind was racing, jumping to conclusions that didn’t make sense.

He looked at me again, something new in those eyes; “By God’s standards, that is.” And he watched my face go stationary, watched as I tried to understand.

And he chuckled, humoring in my confusion.

“What’s funny?” I asked as he returned his gaze to the fire, “I don’t understand.”

He nodded his head, “They’re dead.” Is all he said, and that’s all I needed to hear for everything to click; for everything to make sense. My face dropped, my heartbeat spiked– I laid an assuring hand on his shoulder. “They died in a car crash when I was seven.” I squeezed, my eyes burned. “My mom was best friend’s with Miss Sofia. Roman and I basically grew up together.”

I didn’t hear any crack, any sign of remorse or sadness. But I was filled with it, my stomach dropped as I listened.

“So when it all happened, they took custody of me.” He finally looked at me, “And I’m glad they did because it was either them or my aunts and uncles in Ohio.” He cracked a smile, a soft one that wasn’t flirtatious or humorous– just plain and content. “They’re my Godparents.”

My eyes were filled for him, spilling out the sides for him; “I’m so sorry, Denver.”

“Don’t be.” He put a hand on my thigh, how could he ask that? “This happened a long long time ago. I’m past it.” He squeezed at my leg.

But that didn’t stop the emotion building within me, the sorrow bubbling to the surface.

“Denver, I–”

“Stop.” He cut me off, using a thumb to wipe a tear from my cheek. “Don’t feel sorry for me, I’ve never liked that.” But I did feel sorry for him. I felt sorry that he lost his parents, felt sorry that I pried this information out of him; felt sorry that he was consoling me at a time like this.

So I sucked in the tears, studied his unnerving face. “Okay.” I whispered, giving him what he wanted.

Though there wasn’t a shot that I wouldn’t feel sorry for him. Losing your parents? At such a young age? I couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t fathom life without my own. Even if just a month ago, I moved to get away from them; moved to be free of them– I needed them.

“I never told you because I figured you’d look at me differently,” he grabbed my hand; “Look at me as damaged.”

I shook my head, “I’d never look at you that way.”

“But you are right now.” He smirked, squeezed my hand as I frowned. “I get it though, it’s everyone's reaction when I tell them.”

So I tried to fix my face, wiped at my own tears and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to say.” I was honest, as honest as I could be.

He chuckled to himself, “You don’t have to say anything.” He squeezed again, wrapped both of his hands around mine as he turned his whole body towards me; “I turned out fine. I am fine. And I’m even better with you.”

My heart melted, my body melted.

“How is it that you found the worst time to say something so sweet?” I finally cracked a grin, pushing away the bad thoughts; replacing them with the good– with him.

He smiled too, lowered his head then lifted it back to mine; “How lucky am I to find someone worth being so sweet to?” And I broke.

The floodgates opened again, but not in sadness; not in turmoil– but happiness. Pure, true happiness.

I shook my head, “I’m the lucky one.” I whispered, and he leaned forward, hands still wrapped around mine– and kissed me.

His lips burned me hotter than the fire. His being warmed me better than the flames.

He broke away, “No more tears.” He wiped at my cheek again to which I furiously wiped them gone. “No more lies.” He grinned.

I couldn’t believe the man in front of me, couldn’t believe the delicateness he possessed. This wasn’t the man I first met– no, this was the man I knew he was.

“You keep surprising me, Denver Benedetti.” I smiled while wrapping my arms around him, pulling him into an embrace I craved; “Every time I think I got you down, I don’t.”

He was warm in my arms as he whispered in my ear, “I wanna keep surprising you.” He squeezed me, “For a long time.” He added.

We broke away, smiles on both of our faces; a new understanding between the both of us. This may have been a sad moment, a longingly depressive moment– but I was happy. He was happy. We were happy– together.

I smiled ear to ear and stood, wiping at my pants. “Okay so…” I started, “Roman told us to take care of this fire didn’t he? Where are we supp–”

He cut me off, “I told him.”

And I turned in place, lips parted and speechless. What?

“I told him about us. About everything.” He smiled up at me.

He what? Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Because Lord knows I couldn’t speak, couldn’t comprehend. 

He picked at my hand, held it while I stood; “He’s my best friend, my brother. He deserved to know. And I had to start somewhere, right?” He asked a question but I had no answer for him. He just chuckled, “He’s happy for us. For me.” And he stood to meet my eyes.

A foreign song started playing, one I didn't know of at the time; one that became our song for the rest of history– Chemtrails over the Country Club– how fitting.

⧫ I’m on the run with you, my sweet love. ⧫

“You’re lying.” I breathed out, in utter disbelief at his words; at his face that was now two inches from mine.

He smiled down at me, gripped my waist with those hands; “Surprise.”

⧫ Under the chemtrails over the country club. ⧫

The blush ran so directly, so fast and furiously to my cheeks. “You didn’t have to.” I managed with a shake of my head.

He swayed us, “I didn’t? Maybe I can go take it back?” He teased me.

His eyes were filled with joy, with contentment. Nothing more, nothing less. I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissed him deeply with nothing but passion.

⧫ Baby, what’s your sign? My moon’s in Leo, my Cancer is sun. ⧫

He kept us swaying to the song, to this foreign song that breathed fresh life into us. But he pulled away from my lips, stared into my eyes; “You said you spent summers at the club, right?” He smiled down at me.

I nodded, “Yes.”

“Were you taught formal dance?” He asked, a spike rising through my heart.

⧫ I’m on the run with you, my sweet love. There’s nothing wrong contemplating God. ⧫

I smiled back at him, “I was.” I answered.

“Do you remember the waltz?” He squeezed at my hips.

I nodded again, my heart filling; my body trembling.

⧫ Under the chemtrails over the country club. ⧫

He lifted his arms with a smirk, raising his eyebrows. I followed suit, wrapping my left arm around his and conjoining my right hand in his.

⧫ We laugh about nothing as the summer gets cool. ⧫

We stepped in rhythm to the song, one, two, pause, three, four. No more words were needed.

⧫ It’s beautiful how this deep normality settles down over me. ⧫

His eyes burned bright as the fire reflected in them, the light casting such beautiful shadows across his face. We stayed silent, we listened– we remembered.

⧫ You’re the wind, I’m in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter. Watching the chemtrails over the country club. ⧫

We broke step, paced once away, stretched out our arms and came back to each other. I assumed I’d take the female role, not upset one bit about it.

⧫ My love, my love. ⧫

He raised his hand, spun me once; twice– landing me back in his hold as we stepped again. The song filled me, his eyes filled me. My love, my love; it said.

⧫ Late night tv, I want you on me. Like when we were kids under chemtrails and country clubs. ⧫

I stared into those emerald green eyes, those eyes I could look at forever. Is this what it was? Is this what I wanted? My mind raced, my heart shook; I thought of every simple gesture he’d ever done for me.

When he’d hold my hand at night, when he’d remind me to set my alarms. When he’d hold me after work, then worship my body.

⧫ It’s never too late, baby, so don’t give up. ⧫

She was singing to me, telling me.

⧫ It’s never too late, baby, so don’t give up. ⧫

I won’t, ever. I’ll never give up on him, I couldn’t. I– I…

⧫ Under the chemtrails over the country club. ⧫

Is that it? Is that how I feel? Jesus, I think it was… I didn’t just care for him…

⧫ My Cancer is sun and my Leo is moon. ⧫

I didn’t just like him.. I–

And we swayed, stepped– danced to the angelic voice singing to us.

At the moment, I knew. I didn’t just like him…

I loved him.

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And we continued swaying to the beat of the instrumentals of that song, lost in each other’s eyes.

That night I decided I loved him– I loved Denver.

He told someone, they didn’t find out but rather– he told him. His walls were breaking, he was finding that space for me. God, I loved him– I really loved him.

And when the song finished, he dropped our form; pulled me close and kissed me. His hands ravaged me, my hands ravaged him. I didn’t care who saw, and I don’t think he did either.

The fire burned hot, burned bright in front of us. The moon watched us, watched as we stripped off each other’s blazers; watched as we laid in the grass and kissed, groped– did what we wanted to. What we needed to do.

Another song started playing, equally angelic– equally satisfying.

I straddled him in the grass, tore at the buttons on his shirt; untucked it from his pants. He did the same, not caring if a button was lost to the green grass; not caring that our skin now stuck to the cold, summer ground.

I stopped for a moment, is this the right time? After such a heavy topic? After such a heavy revelation?

But he flipped me onto my back, my head landing softly on the grass as he leaned in my ear; “I need you, Max. Right now.” He whispered.

I bucked my hips, I didn’t care. “Yes, sir.” I responded, declaring my ignorance; declaring my obvious need for him right here, right now.

He breathed hard, bit on my ear. “Don’t make a sound.” He seductively whispered, trailing his tongue down my neck as I moaned– taking sharp breaths.

“Yes, sir.” I whispered back.

And he kneeled on top of me, fumbling with my belt; pulling down my pants as I did the same to him. I had his pants around his muscled thighs, his boxers filled with his raging length.

“I need it.” I squeezed at his package while staring up at him, “I need you too.”

He smirked down to me, hurrying to throw off my shoes, pull the rest of my pants down; literally tearing the boxers from my body to shreds. An animal primal-ness came over him, a strength of a thousand tigers in his eyes– in his fingers that rubbed at my entrance.

I moaned again, “Shh.” He seethed through clenched teeth, the fire casting such magical; moving shadows across his muscled figure. “Who’s my good boy?”

“Me, sir.” I breathed, “I am.”

Another smirk plastered his face as he lifted my legs, pulled down his boxers to free that raging cock. He cleared his throat, not to speak–no, to spit. Drenching my hole in his warm saliva.

He pressed at my entrance, looked me in the eyes; “Be a good boy and don’t scream.” He smirked wildly before plunging inside of me.

And I almost did exactly what he told me not to do. The pressure, the stinging; the dry-ness of his cock sliding into me. It hurt, I didn’t care. I moaned, I didn’t care.

I may not have said it, I may not for a while. But I fucking love this man; and I’ll love him forever.

His brows were slick, his mouth stayed parted as he rocked his hips into me, pure passion in his eyes; a loving passion in his thrusts. I love him.

He let my legs down to wrap around his torso, moving a hand to my throat, sliding a finger in my mouth. I love him.

He pulled at my lip, opened my mouth so he could spit in it. I love him.

His legs shook, his eyes rolled– and he collapsed into me after having his way.

I love him.

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A/N - Thanks or reading! This is my favorite chapter to date. Appreciate the comments!