34. Jeremy

Jeremy and Davis were a bit late to Dec’s impromptu brunch, first because of the way they had taken turns on their knees in the shower, Jeremy finally getting the chance to show off his own admirable deep throat skills, and then they were made later as Jeremy struggled to decide what type of tea he wanted for the morning. He could have picked his standard morning blend, but he purposefully waffled, knowing that each moment was another second he got to keep Davis to himself. At some point, even Jeremy had to admit he was stalling, and Davis followed him out to his car, hands tucked in his hoodie pocket.

Dec’s bar was hard to find, the entrance an unassuming door that you would have to know led to a bar to open it, but Jeremy had been there enough times he could probably find it with his eyes closed. Jeremy opened the door, and Davis followed him, a comfortable presence behind Jeremy’s back.

Dec was at the door, looking like he could barely tolerate the group of hungover thirtysomethings surrounding him, but Jeremy knew better. Still, Jeremy wanted to make sure it was okay to bring a new person.

“Uh, you remember Davis,” Jeremy said, nodding back to Dec. “He’s still in town.”

“More the merrier,” Dec said, only a tiny glint in his eye giving Jeremy a clue that he knew exactly why Davis was still in town. While there was a part of Jeremy that wanted to climb onto Davis’s back and yell to his friends, “I fucked this super-hot, rugged man,” a bigger part of him wanted to let Davis take the lead with how to progress. Plus, Jeremy didn’t want to get ahead of himself.

Ahead of himself further, he thought, kicking himself as Dec headed back to the bar. The words about inviting Davis to a museum had tumbled out of his mouth this morning before he was even fully awake, but seeing that gorgeous man looking at his art books had unlocked something inside him. He wanted to take Davis everywhere and show him all his favorite pieces of art. Show him the dorm he had lived in during his time at NYU and kiss him, then take him to the Stonewall Inn and talk about how important it was that queer history was being recognized at the federal level.

But he had no clue if Davis wanted the same.

“Here,” Dec said, shaking Jeremy out of his thoughts, the two men still lingering by the door. He pulled out two flavored seltzers from his hoodie pocket and passed them to Davis. “I’ve got lime and cranberry. Choose what you like. I can also make you something if you want. Like a fancy drink without booze.”

Davis looked stunned, like a fish taken out of water for a moment too long. “I, uh, these are great. Fine. Perfect. Thank you.”

Dec gave him a quick nod and then turned back, being drawn to Phoebe like a moth to a flame. Phoebe, who was looking at a glass of water as if it had wronged her, was seated next to Ryan and Emmy, who were doing a terrible job of attempting to prop each other up in the bar. Joe, the older, original owner of the bar, bustled about, setting out an array of food that had been ordered.

“Breakfast food,” Davis said quietly. He looked up at Jeremy, and their eyes met, a moment of quiet heat passing between the two men. “Remember when you ordered me breakfast food at your house?”

“I do,” Jeremy said, keeping his voice low.

“I thought about you touching my knee for the entire week following,” Davis said, pitching his voice low. It was a confession of sorts, it seemed, a way for Davis to admit that his attraction to Jeremy had been lingering in the air for a long time.

“I wanted to touch more than just your knee, Nathaniel Davis,” Jeremy replied, feeling raw and exposed.

Davis began to speak but was interrupted by Foster and Flo bursting through the door.

“I am starving!” Foster proclaimed, dramatically collapsing into a booth. “Who let me drink alcohol last night?”

Flo rolled her eyes. “At least your friends got to see you in your happy drunk phase.” She rolled her eyes at Jeremy, who knew that Foster’s happy-go-lucky attitude could turn into a moody pout as fast as the snow could come down from Greeley when the winds changed.

“I have feelings, Florence,” Foster said.

“Well, at least someone in this family does,” she replied, setting a cooler of beer down, then turning to the rest of the bar. “The rest of you degenerates, who needs some Henrik Hund?” She picked up an unlabeled can of beer and offered it to Emmy, who turned a pale shade of green.

“I’ll take it,” Ryan said, reaching past her and opening the can. “What’s got you down, Foster?”

“Nothing,” Foster said, sliding farther into the booth.

Flo pursed her lips and looked between Ryan and Foster, as if to say something, but settled for helping Dec behind the bar.

“Uh,” Davis said a bit awkwardly. “I’m gonna go get a coffee from Dec.” And he walked away, leaving Jeremy to take in the room. Dec and Phoebe flirted as they set up the buffet further, Ryan turned his attention back to Emmy, and Foster, sensing that others’ attention had turned away from him, slid his eyes to Jeremy.

Shit.

“So,” Foster said, sitting up and leaning over the back of the booth. “You left my party last night.”

“That’s correct,” Jeremy said, sipping his tea.

“You left my party with Davis last night.”

Damn his friends. “That is…also correct.”

“You showed up this morning with Davis.”

“Your powers of perception astound me, Foster,” Jeremy deadpanned.

“You got laid, didn’t you?” A feline smile spread across Foster’s face. “Yes! At least one of us is getting some from our crush.”

“Shut up,” Jeremy hissed. “Don’t say it too loud. Emmy and Phoebe will never let him leave until they interrogate him.” Jeremy looked up to where Davis was chatting with Joe. Davis mimed swinging a baseball bat, and Joe laughed.

Jeremy had never not been proud of his sexuality. He’dnever questioned it or felt the terror at coming out that he read about in the news. He had grown up in the center of east coast queer culture and had been lucky to have elder gay mentors from a generation that had lost so many. Jeremy loved being gay, loved gay culture and bars and Pride and everything that came with it. He never felt like he was missing out on the parts of the world that were meant for straight men, whether they were advertisements featuring women eating cheeseburgers or fantasy football.

But Davis wasn’t like Jeremy. And Jeremy suddenly became nervous that the parts of his culture he loved and the parts of the world that Davis felt comfortable existing within were somehow fundamentally incompatible.

He wished he could call his dad and ask him about baseball.

He wished he could tell his mom about Davis.

“Jer?” Foster said, a bit softer.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t mean to push,” Foster said, picking at a seam on the booth. “I’ll be good.”

Jeremy shook his head as Davis approached. “It’s fine.” Jeremy caught an unusual timbre in his friend’s voice. “Are you okay?”

Foster waved it away and pushed up from the seat. “I’m fine. I’ll be better when I get a mimosa.”

Davis sidled up to Jeremy, a cup of black coffee in his hand, while Foster had moved on to bothering Dec for a mimosa.

“Hey,” Davis said.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Your friend suspects something, yeah?” Davis said, more to his coffee than to Jeremy.

With anyone else, Jeremy would have told a white lie, but he felt the need to be honest with Davis, since they had been deeply honest with each other last night. “Yeah, he does.”

Davis smiled a bit. “That’s cool. I mean, not exactly subtle, right?”

Jeremy smiled down at Davis, feeling like his heart would burst with how happy he was in this moment. “I mean, I have some ideas about how to be a bit more obvious…”

Davis rolled his eyes. “Later. I need sustenance.”

Jeremy followed him to the buffet and began to feel like he might want to follow him anywhere.