35. The New Hope

Hunter

Hunter slept in the next day and spent the rest of the afternoon watching television and wasting time on his phone. He ordered takeout in the early evening and by the time it was seven, he realized what he had to do. He showered, put on some nice clothing, and headed out the door.

The Neighborhood Bar had about a dozen patrons that night. There was no loud music, but a TV played in one corner as some men feverishly watched a Sunday night football game, cheering and yelling at the screen. It surprised Hunter to see gay men so into sports. It almost didn’t make sense. He sat down at the bar and spotted Benji right away.

“Hey, Richie Richardson!” Benji winked at him as he stocked a few bottles on the counter and took inventory in a notebook.

“Hey, Benji.” Hunter smiled with a short wave.

Benji walked over to him behind the bar and paused for a moment. “Gray isn’t here.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Gray. He doesn’t work tonight,” Benji said. Hunter wasn’t sure how to respond—feeling caught.

“Who is that?”

“Cut the shit,” Benji said and then pursed lips. “You burned a hole in the back of his head.”

Hunter’s cheeks turned a light crimson. “Was it that obvious?”

Benji gave him a look as if he had said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Oh, honey. Are you a baby gay? Never mind—not my business. Here.” Benji pulled out a coaster from behind the counter and handed it to Hunter. “He left this for you, in case you came by tonight.”

“Grayson,” Hunter read out loud.

“You’re lucky ‘cause he recently broke up with his boyfriend and everyone’s been trying to get at that,” Benji said as he made a drink.

“Is he … how is he?”

“You know, all-American farm boy you can bring home to Mama.”

Hunter laughed at his candor. He took a picture of the coaster and texted it to the number. “What’s he into?”

“Geocaching?”

“What’s that?”

“Hell if I know! Call him, he’s off, and the night is young. Here’s one—on the house.” Benji placed a rum and Coke in front of Hunter. “Give him a kiss for me.”

Benji disappeared to the back while Hunter noticed a text come in.

Richie Richardson, Grayson texted.

Benji already used that one tonight, Hunter replied.

It’s what we’ve been calling you so that’s your name now.

Might have to change it legally.

I’m glad you reached out … So, what’s your next move?

Hunter sent him his address. Can you meet me there in thirty?

I can … Are you sure you’re not a serial killer? You give me American Psycho vibes.

Can’t promise that I’m not,Hunter texted.

See you in thirty.

Hunter smiled to himself, invigorated. He took one last sip of his drink and hurried out the door after leaving his usual tip under the empty glass.

“Penthouse? Doorman?” were the first words out of Grayson’s mouth when Hunter opened the door.

“Hi, uh, come in,” Hunter said, suddenly shy. As Grayson passed by, Hunter noticed his flannel shirt showed some wear near the rim and his sneakers were beat up.

“You know, they made me sign my name downstairs, so you can’t be married,” Grayson said, entering the condo and looking around.

“I’m not married.” Hunter laughed. “Have a seat.”

“I’m trying not to gush about this place, so let’s say I’m unimpressed so that you think highly of me.”

“Ah, no need,” Hunter said, opening a plastic bag on the coffee table in front of the leather couch overlooking the big screen TV. “I got us some Tacos. Al Pastor, chicken, and steak. Take your pick.”

“Wow, impressive. Can’t remember the last time I was fed.”

“Are you hungry? I also have some leftover Chinese from a few hours ago if you want that instead.”

“Jeez, how much do you eat? I might have some of everything. You really didn’t have to,” Grayson said, looking up at him from the couch. He was soft-spoken and seemed kind. “You’re not a New Yorker, are you?”

“Indiana,” Hunter confessed. “You?”

“Arkansas.”

“Arkansas? You don’t have much of an accent. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone from Arkansas,” Hunter said as he grabbed plates and napkins for the two of them.

Hunter learned that Grayson was twenty-two and the third eldest of five. He left home at seventeen and hadn’t been back since his father found him making out behind a barn with one of his workers. He went to Nashville for a couple of years, then D.C., and made his way to New York a year prior. He started working at The Neighborhood at the beginning of summer, and it was almost October. He also did odd jobs and food deliveries via bicycle on his days off.

“You must have some fancy corporate job,” Grayson said. “Wall Street?”

“Not exactly. I’m a consultant at an accounting firm. I’d be doing odd jobs myself if I didn’t live here. This place belongs to my mother; she bought it twenty years ago during the market crash. My brother lived here for a while, and now it’s mine—but technically, my mother’s. She’s still back in Indiana.” Hunter felt he was rambling more than he should’ve been.

“That sounds interesting—I guess. I have no idea what you’d do at an accounting firm.”

“Boring stuff.”

“Do you mind if I grab a drink?” Grayson asked.

Hunter got up from his seat. “I’m so sorry. Let me make one for you. I have scotch, whiskey, rum, bourbon …”

“Water is fine,” Grayson replied.

“You sure? I have some wine in the fridge.”

“I don’t drink. I know, I’m a bartender but—it’s just a gig,” Grayson added, as he got up to help clean the plates and takeout bags. “I live off tap water.” Grayson stood behind Hunter as he bent over and reached into the fridge for a bottle of water. “Looks like you live off beer and takeout.”

“Hey, no judging.” Hunter laughed. “Besides, I make smoothies and protein shakes all the time.”

“You’re one of those health freaks.”

“Aren’t you? You look like you hit the gym.”

“I’ve never stepped foot in a gym—could never afford it. I get most of my workouts from deliveries on my bike or using a pull-up bar above my door my sister sent me last Christmas. I love that thing. So many things you can do on it.”

They both sat back down on the couch when Grayson received a text message. “Benji wants to know if I’ve been murdered yet.” He smiled to himself as he typed back.

“He’s a funny guy. Can I ask you something?” Hunter asked, now back at the couch. Grayson nodded. “Was I that obvious?”

“I thought you were going to ask something else. Like, literally, anything else.” Grayson laughed. “Not at first and not to me. After the first night, Benji swore you were staring at me. We were understaffed that day, so I don’t know how he had the time to pay attention. I certainly didn’t.”

“I walked in because I saw you outside,” Hunter confessed. “To be honest, once I was inside, I couldn’t stop staring at you.” Hunter propped his legs up on the couch, tucking them underneath his body as he turned toward Grayson who took off his shoes and mirrored his position.

“Why not?”

“You look like someone I once knew.”

“Someone you fancied?”

Hunter laughed. “Something like that.”

“Repressed boy-crush?”

“Do you want to smoke? I got three new types today.” Hunter changed the subject. He leaned over and opened a small metal box that sat on the table and pulled out his weed pen. “Pen is the only way to go.”

“Oil, nice. That’s why I stick to vaping.” Grayson reached into his pocket and pulled out his vape.

“That still has nicotine in it,” Hunter lectured him. “Kills your lungs.”

“You think marijuana doesn’t?”

“It has no nicotine.”

“Here, try some. It’s yummy.” Grayson put his vape up to Hunter’s mouth and held it there as he took a pull, making steady eye contact as he did.

“Mhh, strawberry,” Hunter said after he exhaled, licking his lips.

“Take another hit.” Grayson held it to his lips again. “Now, this time, blow it in my mouth.” Grayson leaned in on the couch and hovered his mouth open over Hunter’s lips. Hunter shoved his tongue into Grayson’s mouth quickly, catching him by surprise. Placing a hand on Hunter’s shoulder for balance, Grayson kissed him back with slow, gentle tongue movements. He didn’t kiss like Logan, but Logan was the last thing on his mind while kissing Grayson with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he saw Logan again.

“Sorry,” Hunter said, pulling back. “I’m bad at that.”

“Terrible kisser.”

Hunter rubbed his palms on his thighs. “I’m kinda glad we got that out of the way.”

“Aww, do I make you nervous?”

Hunter laughed. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I don’t usually go for straight men,” Grayson said. “But Benji wouldn’t let up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Benji swore up and down you were into me and on your second night at the bar, I started noticing it, too. I told him to find out and if you were, to give you my number.”

“No, I mean, you consider me straight?”

“I’m assuming you are. Straight men break your heart. Everyone knows that.”

“Why do you think I’m straight?” Hunter asked, almost sounding offended.

“Are you gay?”

“No.”

“See?”

“I don’t know. I uhm,” Hunter hesitated. “I was in a relationship with a man for two and a half years.”

“Were you out?” Grayson asked. Hunter stared at him blankly. “Were you out and about with it? Or were you hiding it from the world?”

“Ah. We both hid it from everyone.”

“It’s not easy to come out and tell the world who you are. It’s terrible to have to hide who you love,” Grayson said, empathetically.

“When did you know?”

“Since I could talk.” He laughed. “I grew up ‘straight’—in the closet. My parents weren’t bible freaks but they’re pretty conservative. I have three brothers and statistics say that one of us was bound to be gay.”

“Do you have a picture of your family?”

“Definitely do, somewhere.” Grayson searched through his phone. “So, you go to gay bars often or what was that about?”

“No. Never. It was my first time. I didn’t even realize it was a gay bar until I got in there. I saw you go inside. I haven’t even kissed a man since—him. Now, you,” Hunter admitted.

“Can I see a picture of him?”

“You really want to see him?” Hunter asked, pulling out his phone. There was something comforting about being able to tell someone about his private life.

Grayson handed Hunter his phone. “Sure … Here is my family. It’s five years old but you get the idea.”

“Wow. You and your brothers all have the same face. You all look like your dad,” Hunter said, looking at a picture of them lined up near the dining room table from what appeared to be Thanksgiving. It was hard for Hunter to tell which one was Grayson at first.

“My dad’s a good guy. He’s just not very happy with me right now.”

“When’s the last time you were in touch with them?”

“My sister and one of my brothers send me pictures all the time and ask how I’m doing. I spoke to my mom once on the phone last year. She cried and asked me if I was ‘over it’ so that I could come home. She thinks gayness is like a flu or something,” he said with a scoff.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said, looking at the ground, wondering how his family would react if they ever knew about his relationship with Logan.

“I love them all. No hard feelings, they’re different. Or rather, I’m the different one … Is that him?”

“Yeah, Logan,” Hunter said, handing him his phone.

“He looks like he could be one of my brothers … He’s handsome. You sure do have a type,” Grayson said, passing the phone back to Hunter and then spent a few moments looking at his own. “Looks like he’s blocked you. What’d you do to him?”

“What? No, he’s off social media.”

Grayson flashed his phone at Hunter, with Logan’s profile on the screen. “Not according to this.”

“How did you look him up so fast? … I uhm, I guess he blocked me.” Hunter laughed with a shrug, pretending to be indifferent, secretly wanting to pour over the details of every image posted over the last four years.

“Don’t take it personally, his wife made him do it. She probably knows.”

Hunter quickly imagined scenarios in which Logan’s wife would know about the two of them. “You think so? I doubt it.”

Grayson smiled cheekily. “I’d bet your tip on it. When did you break up?”

Hunter thought back to when he moved to New York and how long it had been. Like a blur, the time had escaped him. “Four years ago. It’s been a while.”

“And since, you’ve been dating … what?”

“Women, here and there. Nothing special, I guess. A couple of my friends know about me and Logan, that’s pretty much it. Oh, and Logan’s mom, we could never fool her.”

“Mamas are good like that,” Grayson said.

“You’re different from the guys at the bar. They’re all so—”

“Gay? Flaming?” Grayson mocked him.

“Out there. Flamboyant. It’s so annoying and excessive,” Hunter said, shaking his head. “I don’t get it.”

“You’d be surprised at how many of us there are that don’t fit those stereotypes. Even at your job. They say one in ten men are gay, but I think it’s more like one in four and one in two have tasted a little cock.” Grayson giggled.

“What’s your type?”

“I don’t like to think I have one, but it seems to be older men. Not by choice, they know what they want. There’s no guessing. Maybe I have daddy issues—who knows?” He laughed.

“You’re funny. I’m glad you came over.”

Grayson’s smile made his stomach flutter. “Thanks for inviting me. Want to give the vape another try?”

“No. But I wouldn’t mind kissing you again.”

Grayson’s smile reached his eyes as he sat on Hunter’s lap, straddling it boldly. The arousal was something Hunter had never experienced before, by someone who wasn’t Logan. Grayson kissed him tenderly, grinding his crotch on Hunter’s lap. Hunter slowly trailed his hand from Grayson’s cheek down his neck, chest and to the rim of his pants. As much as he wanted to shove his hand down, he went under Grayson’s shirt, his rough hands spreading across the soft, tight skin of Grayson’s stomach.

Grayson’s phone suddenly rang in his pocket, and he slowly reached for it as they kissed before giving it a glance. “Shit. They’re docking me fifty bucks. I forgot to sign out of the delivery app when you texted me.”

“You were doing deliveries today?”

“I work every day,” Grayson said before kissing him again.

Hunter reached into his pocket as they kissed and pulled out his wallet. “Here,” he said opening it and then placing a hundred-dollar bill on the couch.

Grayson stared at him sternly. “I can’t take that.”

“What? It’s for you. I messed up your night.”

“No, you didn’t. I’m a big boy. I can deal with my own problems. I don’t need someone to solve them for me with money.”

“Alright, sorry. Don’t take it.” Hunter tried to kiss him again, but Grayson pulled back.

“Do you think I’m an escort or something—because I bartend for tips, I’d sleep with you for cash?”

“What? No. You’re taking this way too seriously. I said I was sorry.” Hunter took the bill to put it back in his wallet and Grayson snatched it away.

“I earned this,” he said with a smile and shoved it in his pocket before kissing Hunter again.

Hunter laughed. “Oh my god. You’re gonna pay for that. You scared me. I thought you’d leave.”

“What, do you like me or something?”

“I do,” Hunter said smiling, before kissing him some more.

“You know I’m not Logan, right?” Grayson said sternly, with furrowed brows inches from his face.

Hunter felt exposed. He had missed Logan so much and for so long and now it slowly faded away. It’s time to move on. Someone fresh, someone new, someone here, who wanted him back. “I know,” Hunter said earnestly with a sigh. “I’m glad you’re not.”

“When can I see you again?”

“What do you mean? Are you leaving?”

Grayson got up from the couch and stretched, and Hunter’s eyes followed, hating the sudden distance between them. “I have to get up early tomorrow. I have a move from seven to three,” Grayson said.

It sounded like the lie Hunter had just used on Reagan. “You’re helping a friend?”

“Nah. One of my odd jobs. I’m at the bar Fridays and Saturdays when they want extra eye candy,” Grayson explained.

“What about after that?” Hunter got up and walked him to the door.

“I have deliveries. But we’ll do something this week, promise?”

“Absolutely. Want to add me?”

“I already sent you a request.” Grayson smiled, in a rush. “Have a great night. I’ll see you soon.”

Hunter pulled him into a kiss, making Grayson bend at the knees. “Get home safe.”