Chapter Sixteen “Never Stop Crushing Me”

sixteen

" Never Stop Crushing Me "

I wake up the next morning feeling like I've been asleep for a hundred years. There's a slight sting of razor burn on my face and I take it as proof that last night actually happened and that I didn't dream the whole thing up. A ceiling fan makes lazy circles above me and I feel almost hypnotized as my eyes try to focus on the slowly spinning blades.

I roll over expecting to see a sleepy Luke next to me, but I'm alone in his bed.

Bosco snores from his mat on the floor and it appears that it might just be the dog and me in the house. Then it dawns on me that Luke is probably making me breakfast in bed.

Isn't that what hot guys do in movies and TV commercials?

I close my eyes for a moment and allow the events of last night to wash over me. The way our bodies quickly agreed on a rhythm. The unexpected tenderness of it all. And how, at the last second, I had to remind myself to breathe. And looking down to see Luke staring up into my eyes and the realization that we're both trembling and gazing in awe at one another like we can't believe any of this is real. And me finally collapsing on top of him as he accepts my full weight with a muffled laugh. And then the two of us lying there, almost vibrating in time with one another.

Me saying, "I'm crushing you."

And Luke saying with a sigh, "Please never stop crushing me."

And then me falling into the deepest sleep of my life.

I get up and take a good look in the mirror. My chronic bedhead is back and makes me look like a gay cockatoo, which is redundant, I know. I duck into the bathroom to throw some water on it to tame it slightly, then head into the kitchen.

No Luke.

No Luke anywhere.

I grab my cell and quickly call him.

He answers with an almost annoyed, "Hey."

"If you've fled out of fear, I can promise you that scientifically speaking there is absolutely no chance I could have gotten you pregnant last night."

He doesn't laugh. Not a good sign. "I'm kinda busy right now."

My stomach does an elevator drop into the floor. Is he mad at me? "Did I do something wrong? Because you seemed pretty happy last night. I thought we both were."

"I'm working. Some of us have to work. Even on Sundays. There's coffee in the kitchen if you want it." And then he hangs up.

What the actual fuck is going on? What's with this Jekyll and Hyde bullshit? Is he just like Chase? Do they both have evil twins that appear once they've had their fun and they're ready to move on?

No. Uh-uh. This isn't going down like this.

I go to the bedroom and angrily start pulling my clothes on. He's fucking with the wrong motherfucker.

By the time I get to the barn, Luke and Eddie are using a hay thingy to do things with hay. Luke looks almost annoyed to see me and Eddie has the surprising good sense to wander away altogether.

When I get within a few feet of Luke, he has his clenched fists on his hips and he seems to be studying a rusty weather vane as it turns sluggishly on the barn's roof. It emits a sorrowful squeal in the slow-moving August breeze. The metallic groan perfectly matches the put-upon expression on Luke's face.

Steady, Noah. Speak slowly. "So…am I missing something?"

No eye contact. Last night was all about eye contract. But somehow a page has been turned and nobody told me.

"What do you mean, Noah?"

"I don't know, it's like I was watching this really romantic movie, I got up to go to the lobby for some Sno-Caps and when I came back somebody switched reels and it was a horror movie. Why are you being so…I don't know…abrupt?"

"I'm not being abrupt," Luke snaps.

And then he just stands there until I say, "See that? What you just did? That was abrupt. You're being abrupt about not being abrupt."

"I really am busy, Noah." Luke turns and walks into the barn, but I'm right behind him.

"Can we at least talk? Are you angry with me? Because you certainly weren't angry with me last night."

"I get it, Noah. You know how to use your dick. Congratulations."

I'm winded for a moment, but then plow forward. Without thinking, I grab his arm and turn him around and force him to look me in the eye. "It's not about the sex stuff, though. I thought, I thought we had a real connection. Forget all the fireworks. I thought what happened last night was very, I don't know…sweet? Tender? Remarkable?"

"Yeah, and then what? You'll leave. In a couple of weeks. I finally get what I've wanted for I don't even know how many years and you're going to leave. You're not going to stay here for me. And I guess I thought I could handle that. You know, be casual and go with the flow. Take things as they come. Roll with the punches. But not after last night. Last night, everything got real. And now you're just going to go back to New York and you and all of your fancy friends are gonna laugh about how you fucked the dumb, small-town ex-jock."

My face twitches with confusion. "I would never call you dumb, Luke."

"Oh, come on, I know what you think of me."

"You are the furthest thing from dumb. First off, you saw through my mom's little eggplant emoji ruse. You re-created an entire Broadway set from scratch—"

Luke rolls his eyes. "I had pictures, big deal. I was just helping your dad."

"You basically single-handedly run this farm."

"None of that matters. The point is you have all the power. When the show is over, you're going back to New York and I'm gonna be left here just hurting and lonely. And I don't think I can take that. So maybe it's just better to stop this and call it what it was. A one-time hookup. No strings. No emotions. We're both adults, the end."

Luke turns away and starts picking up buckets and loudly stacking them as if to signal that the conversation is over. I refuse to let that happen and continue to speak over the annoying metal clanging.

"Well, if you're calling me an adult, then you clearly don't know me very well. I'm just a frightened little boy walking around in a man's body. I'm a complete neurotic mess. And after Chase, I don't think I will ever trust my own judgment again. And as for you, I had you all wrong when we were younger. I guess I just made a bunch of stupid assumptions about you and now I'm learning how wrong I've been all this time. Do you know how rare something like what we found is? So please don't tell me it has to just stop, because—"

Luke drops an armful of buckets in exasperation and turns to me as they clatter to the ground and says, "I'm fucking scared, okay?!"

We're both a little shocked at how forceful Luke's voice sounds. His eyes soften and he says much more tenderly, "I'm scared, Noah. Don't hurt me."

Luke's story about his dad leaving him flashes through my mind, and it feels like gravity just tripled around us. Luke's been rewired to think that he's easy to leave. If only he could be standing where I am, he'd understand that nothing could be further from the truth.

I walk toward him and gently push him up against the wall of the barn and lean my full weight into him. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. And the smell of his skin, that orchard smell again.

"There are airplanes, you know," I say. "There are such things as long-distance relationships. If we decide we want that."

"You're crushing me."

"You told me never to stop."

I kiss him as gently as I can. I run my fingers through his hair for a second.

"Noah…I'm sorry. I freaked out."

"I get it. I'm the king of freak-outs."

He smiles and it goes right to the pit of my stomach.

"It's funny," I say, "I've spent most of my childhood trying to avoid this dirty, creepy building."

Luke chuckles. "It's called a barn."

"A barn? And all this time I've been calling it a cow garage."

I lean into him even harder. We stay suspended like this for a few seconds until Luke whispers, "Follow me."

He wraps his massive hand around mine and pulls me toward a ladder that leads to the hayloft. There is an uptick of mooing from the cows and it feels like they're watching us and judging. Luke starts to climb up the ladder first and I notice his ass and then I stop and notice his ass again.

"It's not going to be dusty up there, is it? Because this is a very expensive shirt."

Luke stops climbing and turns around on the ladder, feigning exasperation. "Well, if you're worried about your fancy clothes, I can just go back to work."

I borrow his move from last night and whip my shirt off, throwing it on the ground so quickly that I rip the seams slightly. "I'm an idiot. Keep climbing."

There are a few bales of hay stuck together in the middle of the loft covered by a wool blanket. Luke leads me over to it and I get suspicious.

"Is this where you bring guys when you want to hook up with them, but don't want them to know your home address?"

"It's where I pass out when I'm on a break. But that's a good suggestion."

"Wait a second, I don't want you thinking about other guys when you're with me."

Luke wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. "There's no one else. It's just you, Noah. You stupid, talkative, handsome motherfucker."

"Next time, I'd like you to thin out some of those adjectives."

"Do you ever shut up?"

We fall backward onto the makeshift bed and do things to each other that the barn definitely wasn't designed for. Afterward, Luke lightly grazes his fingers over my chest. Downstairs, the cows croon out a chorus of moos.

"Jeez, Noah, where did you get this body?"

"Amazon. It was delivered last week. I opted for Prime so they sent it the next day."

And then I feel a rush of bitterness. If I do have a tidy collection of muscles, they were all for Chase. The daily rituals at the gym were all for him. The Spartan high-protein, low-carb diet. I guess I was trying to play catch up. Chase was a Greek god on loan from Olympus and I was a mere mortal.

I stop myself from going any further down that path when I realize that I'm actually lying next to Luke Carter.

Luke, who came by his physique honestly, through sports or manual labor. Not from some gym, fueled by vanity like Chase. Or, if I'm honest, like me, too.

Is it possible that Luke could erase all the damage that Chase left in his wake? I'm trying not to fetishize him. But he's just so unbelievably perfect. My newest obsession is his nose. For lack of a better word, it's strong. Noble. Trustworthy. I run my index finger over it as softly as possible and Luke smiles. And how did I not notice earlier that when he smiles he has honest-to-God dimples?

How is all of this beauty possible in one person? It should be illegal. Or he should be the arrogant douchebag that I always assumed he was. And that's the miracle of Luke. He's a muscle-bound, aw shucks, tender marvel. And he somehow, against all odds, has a thing for me.

"I can't believe this is really happening," I say. "How'd I end up in a hayloft with the quarterback of my high school football team?"

"Well, technically, I wasn't a quarterback, I was a wide receiver."

"I never understood football. It's too complicated."

"I could explain it to you."

"Please don't."

"So you were never into any sports?"

"I threw a Frisbee once. Does that count?"

"I better get back to work before Eddie or your dad notices I've been gone too long."

We get dressed and climb down from the loft. I grab my shirt and kiss him quickly before starting to head toward the house. I pause to consider a row of cows staring somewhat knowingly at me as I go, their cattle tags dangling like earrings. I'm pretty sure they're going to gossip about Luke and me as soon as I'm out of sight.

The moment I walk into the kitchen, Mom gives me a curious look. "Noah, honey?"

"Yes?"

"Are you currently doing what the kids call the walk of shame?"

I'm appalled. "What?"

"Somebody didn't come home last night."

"I fell asleep on Luke's couch."

"You're sure that's what you fell asleep on?"

Hold on. Was Mom trying her hand at sexual innuendos? Barf. "Nothing happened with Luke."

"Then why are you covered in hay, dear?"

I look down and realize she's right. "You know, you don't have to say every thought that enters your head, Mom."

"Where's the fun in that?"

I step onto the back porch to brush my clothes off. When I reenter the kitchen, Dad hits me with, "I don't care what you boys do in your spare time. But when Luke is on the clock here, he's working for me. And he's meant to be focused on the farm."

"Sorry, Dad. Got it."

Mom turns to me, practically giddy and all schoolgirl-y. "So was it nice? Your date with Luke? Did you kiss?"

I ignore her.

"Okay, I won't pry. Are you joining us for Sunday dinner tonight?"

"That depends. Are you planning on making something edible?"

Mom huffs. "I am roasting a chicken. Plain old chicken, so I don't want to hear any grumbling."

"Fine. I'll choke it down."

"And then for dessert I was thinking of making your aunt Sandy's Snickers salad."

"Aunt Sandy's what now?"

"Oh, you just chop up a couple of Snickers candy bars and some Granny Smith apples and then you scramble it up with a bunch of vanilla pudding. It's a celebration of textures!"

She just can't stop while she's ahead.

I'm halfway out the door when I hear her say to Dad, "Maybe I'll invite Luke!" Ay dios mío. For a Presbyterian, she is such a fucking yenta.

When Luke shows up that night, it's somehow strange to be near him with my parents around. While Mom desecrates some poor chicken's carcass, Dad and Luke are going back and forth about cars for the millionth time.

"If you look at the doorknob, you can tell the two models apart," Dad lectures. "The 1964 knob will be painted to match the interior. Whereas the 1965 knob will be chrome."

I try to join in. "So, Dad some cars go faster than others, right? I guess that's because of their engine size? Or is it the wheels?"

Dad just stares at me in confusion, then turns to Luke and asks, "What's he doing?"

"Trying," Luke answers.

Dad considers this. "Son, you don't have to pretend to be interested in things you're not interested in just for me."

"No, let's talk about cars and sports stuff. So, the Dallas Cowboys, they're a women's lacrosse team, right? And what exactly are the Pittsburgh Steelers stealing? Is it hearts and minds?"

The doorbell rings.

Mom wipes her hands on a towel. "I'm happy to answer the door, if only to get out of this conversation."

Dad continues and Luke sits there rapt with attention. "Now, the 1966 has a different grill…"

Mom comes back and stares at me like she's seen a ghost. Which shouldn't be a big deal because she claims to see ghosts all the time. But this must have been a scary one.

"What's wrong, Mom?"

In walks Chase. He's wearing one of his work suits and carrying an enormous bouquet of very expensive looking flowers. It's been almost two weeks since he ripped my heart out of my chest cavity and here he is standing in my parents' kitchen and has the gall to look nonchalant.

The room falls into a stunned silence.

Chase puts on his usual prefabricated charm. "Um, hi, Noah. Everyone. Surprise, I guess."

There's more silence and then Mom lifts her eyes and stares at Chase like she can barely control her anger. She speaks in a low, trembling voice that I have never heard her use before.

"I cannot be in the same room with someone who has treated my son badly. So I'm going to just go paint a little, because I don't trust what I might say. But I will say this. You're a bad person and I'm just gonna hope that between karma and Jesus you will be dealt with."

And with that, she goes into the first-floor bedroom and closes the door. Chase gives a little exhale, then turns to me. "Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately?" He seems to be actively ignoring Luke's presence at the kitchen table.

"We don't have anything to talk about."

"Noah, please."

"I'm not moving from this spot," I say very slowly.

Chase throws his head up in frustration and stares at the ceiling. "So you're going to force me to do this right here? Fine. I guess I deserve that. All right, then. Here we go. I made a horrible, stupendously stupid mistake. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe we can chalk it up to an early midlife crisis or something. It's completely over with Aleister. I started getting texts from Kiara about the lease. And she wanted me to box up your things and so I started. Your six thousand belts. Your alarmingly colored socks. Your Thom Browne sports jacket from opening night that still smells like you. And it was gutting. Absolutely gutting. I was actually crying and you know me, I don't cry. But there I was, standing in our closet, smelling your jacket and wanting you back. And panicked that I'd never get you back because of what I'd done. Because of the terrible, awful way that I hurt you and cocked everything up…" He trails off, clearly losing steam.

I can barely stand to look at him, but I force myself to. "So this is your power move? Showing up to Sunday dinner with flowers? With a fucking bouquet? Like that's magically going to fix everything?"

"Noah, can we please go somewhere and talk this out? I'm trying to apologize here. I'm trying to beg you to forgive me. The minute I started gathering all of your things, I was horrified at what I had done to you."

"Oh, so it wasn't until you were putting my socks into a cardboard box that you realized it? That's a little late for an epiphany, Chase."

"What can I do? Please, Noah. Just tell me."

"Well, you could build a time machine and go back to the exact moment when you were about to let Aleister Murphy put his dick inside you and then not let Aleister Murphy put his dick inside you."

Luke puts his hand on my knee very firmly. I'm embarrassed that he has to witness this, but I'm also glad he's there and it's not just Dad and me. I have no idea what's going on in Dad's head, but I'm sure it's not good.

"Everybody makes mistakes."

"I don't! I mean, I make plenty of mistakes. I get on the wrong subway. I call people by the wrong name. I never use the word ‘nonplussed' correctly. But I don't cheat on the person I'm supposed to love and be faithful to. I don't promise someone forever and then throw it all away on a fucking whim."

Chase averts his eyes. I continue on.

"I can be self-centered and petulant and melodramatic. But I'm also faithful, Chase. Faithful to my friends, faithful to my family, and faithful to the person I'm in a relationship with. And you couldn't do the same for me. So there's no going back."

Chase's shoulders slump and it occurs to me that this might be the first time in his entire life that he didn't get what he wanted.

Out of the blue, Dad stands up at the table and grips the edges of it for balance.

He leans forward slightly and addresses Chase.

"Now you listen to me." Dad struggles to control his anger. "You listen to me right now. Because I'm going to tell you who my son is. My son is a man who makes things. He builds things out of words. Now, I may not understand what he does all the time, but I do know this: A hundred years after all of us are dead, people will still be saying his words and singing his songs. And that makes him immortal in a way that none of the rest of us are. Now let me tell you who you are: You're just some sleazy nickel-and-dime guy trying to make a couple of bucks off my son's talent. You aren't fit to carry his boots. You're a grifter at best. And I don't like grifters under my roof. So I'm only going to say this once. Get out of my house. And do it now. Unless Noah has anything to add."

I pause, and then discover I do have something to add. "Just this. You're fired."

Chase furiously tosses the flowers on the floor and leaves.

I turn to Dad in complete disbelief. He stares back at me as if he hasn't said a word and I've just imagined the whole thing.

"What?" Dad finally asks.

"Jesus, Dad, that was dramatic even by my standards. I mean, seriously. Who are you?"

And as God is my witness, I see Dad's eyes go watery for the first time in my entire lifetime. He looks away and says, "I'm your father, that's who." And then Dad and his trusty oxygen tank exit the kitchen stage left.

Luke puts an arm around me and I let my head fall to his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm sorry you had to see that. Did he really think that showing up here like some overdressed flower delivery guy was going to work? That I was just going to forgive him for everything? And of course it didn't work out with Aleister. I don't know the guy that well, but he's got more sleazy ambition than Lady Macbeth."

Luke hesitates. "Wait, was that the lady who killed her own kids?"

"You're thinking of Medea. Medea killed her children. But in her defense, she did it because she'd just been jilted. And as someone who has recently been jilted, I can see where she was coming from. And also, I mean, who wants to be a single mother these days anyway?"

"You're going a little dark, don't you think?"

"I can't help it. I'm sorry, but I actually hope that Aleister broke Chase's heart. If anyone deserves his heart broken, it's Chase. I hope Aleister left him for someone more handsome and more British."

"It'd be hard to be more British than that guy."

I consider this for a moment. "No, they're out there. I hope Aleister left Chase for someone with a title. A duke or a viscount, maybe. Someone who wears a top hat and possibly a monocle. That would kill Chase. He would literally spontaneously combust on the spot."

"Jeez, remind me never to cross you."

I feel my anger start to dissipate and it's replaced with a slow, creeping sadness.

"I'm also kind of offended that he thought he could get me back that easily. That I would be that stupid and just come running back into his arms, full of gratitude. We were together two whole years and it's like he hasn't even met me before. It's just depressing, you know?"

"Is there anything I can do?"

I think about it. I think about it for a long time. "Yeah, there is." I hesitate. "I know this is random, but I'd like to meet your mom sometime."

Luke nods, unsure for a moment. Then he just says, "I'll make it happen."