9. EDDIE

Chapter nine

EDDIE

I t had been a great night. It was so good seeing him. I remembered that I had to be home before Jared got back at ten, so after not much more than an hour, I said I would have to head home. I could see he was disappointed, but when I explained why I had to go, he understood.

As we stepped out of the bar, the warm embrace of the summer night enveloped us. The earlier energy of the city streets had faded into a spare hush, with only the odd car passing. It'd never been one of those places where the party goes on and on.

"You wanna split a cab or something?" he asked.

There was no point. It was no distance to Megan's house. I guessed he was just being nice.

"I'm going to walk home," I said.

Max nodded.

"Mind if I tag along? I could use the fresh air. I might walk the rest of the way."

"Sure, but it's a bit of a hike from here, isn't it?"

He waved off my concern with a casual shrug.

"No worries, I could use the exercise," he quipped when clearly, you could tell from his body he didn't. "I might get a Lyft if I change my mind."

Conversation flowed easily between us, punctuated by moments of a fairly comfortable silence. It was amazing how quickly we fell back into familiarity. Any distance between us seemed to shrink away, replaced by a sense of kinship.

Walking beside Max on that warm, sensual night, I felt a physical admiration for him. His towering presence and his confident stride made me aware of my own smaller stature. But it wasn't an envy. It was something much more than that.

I had always had some kind of attraction to Max, even back in high school. I had never acted on it, had hardly acted on those sorts of feelings in my whole life. But now, there, I felt it again: that attraction.

I knew it wasn't just some buddy admiration, either. It was a desire. I had always known that about him, about my feelings. But I had always been able to put them in a box and file them away. I was sure I would be able to do it again, now that in that moment, I could feel that attraction returning to me.

He asked about my work and also about New York. I found myself opening up, sharing snippets of my work in human rights law and my love of city life. Often, when I had been home, I felt the need not to talk about my life there and my success, but with him, I felt like he wanted to hear it; he wanted to know that I had become one.

We each wanted the other to do well or feel good about himself. We each felt this attraction or admiration for the other. We liked each other. We wanted to open up with one another. Briefly, a fantasy played in my head in which Max, in the bar, had made clear that he might want more from me, those old adolescent fantasies I had had of him, back when I hadn't so much as kissed another girl or boy.

Even the possibility of that reverberated around my head. The thought of Max, with his commanding presence and real masculinity, envisioning me in any romantic or sensual capacity sent a thrill through me.

In that moment, I couldn't help but entertain the possibility, allowing myself to bask in the fantasy of what it would be like to be with Max beyond mere friendship. Was I talking about sex?

But even as I indulged in these thoughts, I knew deep down that it was just that – a fantasy. Max was a friend, and he was straight. We had been talking in the bar about his experiences with women . The people he was talking about dating were women .

He wasn't about to have sex with me because I was not… what?

A woman.

I knew plenty of "straight men" had fooled around with a guy a couple of times, jerked or even sucked each other off, without needing to buy themselves a Pride flag. Even so, I was fooling myself even fantasizing about it.

" Watch out !" I heard him yell.

He was grabbing me, pulling me toward him, not to embrace or kiss me, but hard, almost violently.

Only then did I hear the blare of a horn and the screech of tires. I had been so lost in thinking about him that I had stepped off the sidewalk to cross the road and not noticed the car hurtling toward us.

I thumped around into his body, right against the hugeness of his muscular chest. I felt the hard protection of his body as my head fell a little toward his shoulder, and he laid his arm protectively around my back.

Pressing against each other, both our hearts were thumping like mad in the adrenaline of the near-miss. In that moment, Max had saved me, and now, briefly, I stood in his arms, enclosed in his embrace.

"Man, are you okay?" he asked.

He moved a little back from me and put both his hands on my biceps, staring at me with great concern.

"Yes," I murmured. "Yeah, I'm okay."

We were gazing at each other. I cracked an embarrassed smile. He let me go. I felt the air move on my body where his touch had been.

"Jeez, man, that was close," he said.

"Yeah..."

"Did you not see it coming?" he asked.

"See… see what coming?"

His brow wrinkled up.

"The car, of course."

I was looking into his deep, dark eyes. Only then did the fear of the close call hit me. I felt my stomach flip and my legs a little weak.

"Can we stop a minute?" I asked. He said yes. He looked around for somewhere to sit, but I said it wasn't necessary. I sat down right here on the curbside, my feet on the road. He stood beside me. I looked down at the ground and pointed at his shoe.

"Do you know your lace is undone?"

He glanced downward. As Max knelt down to tie his shoelace, I couldn't help but steal a glance at him, catching his eye as he looked up at me with a playful grin.

"You're good now?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm good."

I got back up, and we resumed our walk, the rhythm of our footsteps falling into sync. He joked a bit about me not getting myself knocked down by a car and that everyone could live without another death. I laughed. He always had a dark, irreverent sense of humor.

"I was wondering," he said after a while, "if it was okay for me to come to the funeral? Maybe just for me to be there for you as a friend."

I was pleased he said it.

"Yeah, of course."

We smiled at each other, and he said, "Good."

"What's good?" I asked.

Some pleasure twitched over his lips.

"It's good that you want me there."

As we reached Megan's street corner, we came to a halt. Max remained rooted to the spot and made no move to come any closer to the house. What was I going to do, ask him in for a coffee? It was already past nine thirty. Jared would be home soon. And of course: he was straight!

I glanced at Max, meeting his gaze.

"Thanks for walking with me."

"Yeah, no problem," he replied, his voice soft and measured. "It was my pleasure. Plus, I saved your life," he added jokily.

"You actually probably did…"

He shrugged.

" De nada ." Then, something passed over him. "Hey, how do you feel about going on a fishing trip, me, you, and Jared?"

"What?"

"You know, a couple of days up in the mountains, like we did when we were young. It could be good for you to get to know each other a bit better. And if you wanted, he could talk to me about losing his mom. I mean, it would be good for him to talk to someone who also lost their mother as a teenager."

The suggestion of a fishing trip with Max and Jared caught me off guard. I didn't know if it was a good idea or not.

"Maybe," I replied, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "Let me think about it, and I have to sound Jared out, too."

"Of course," he said. "No worries."

I thought of Jared meeting the motorbike-riding, super-chill ultra-dude. It would be bro love at first sight!

"You should meet him sometime," I said. "He's fifteen, so he'll probably think you're incredible."

He gave me this odd look.

"What do you mean?"

I shook my head, smiling. I didn't want to feed his ego just then, or reveal my real feelings.

"Doesn't matter."

With a nod of farewell, I turned toward the house, the weight of Max's gaze on me as I turned.

Getting to the front step, I glanced back one last time and saw Max standing beneath the flickering streetlight, bathed in its intermittent glow.

He raised his hand to wave goodbye and then turned and melted into the darkness of the night.