12. Ever

12

Ever

As I sat in my future office in the back corner of my building, I was supposed to be making some decisions on merchandise. Instead, I was thinking about Tracy.

Every night for the last two weeks, we'd gotten naked in the living room and enjoyed each other. The rest of the time, we were strictly hands-off.

Why the living room? Maybe because it was neutral territory, unlike his room or mine, and it didn't lend itself to falling asleep together. We had our fun, and then we went our separate ways. By morning, we'd reset back to friends only.

It was an unusual arrangement, but it was working for us… more or less. Okay, so there were plenty of times when I wanted to grab him and kiss him and rip his clothes off, and times like now when he was all I could think of. But I had to get a grip. That wasn't what we'd agreed to.

And really, it seemed like he was already giving me all he could. He let himself be vulnerable during our nightly romps, but he had definite limits. If we tried for more, I had a feeling it would end up scaring him away.

It startled me when a deep voice said, "Hey." I looked up to see Tracy standing in the doorway. "You told me to drop by for a tour of your building when I finished my errands, but if this is a bad time?—"

"No, I'm glad you're here." He'd just gotten a haircut, and I got up and hurried around the folding table I was using as a desk. "You look fantastic! I didn't know you were going for such a big change." His dark hair had been on the shaggy side since I'd known him, but now it was trimmed into a perfect fade.

"I'm not sure yet if I'll actually maintain this." His father was in town this weekend and they were having dinner tonight, which was the reason he'd gotten a haircut.

"It's definitely flattering." I ran my hands over the very short hair on the sides of his head, which transitioned gradually to a slightly longer length up top. Okay, so maybe touching him like that wasn't something people who were just friends would do, but I couldn't resist. "You look handsome either way, but this cut really complements your features."

"Thanks."

"How did the rest of your errands go?"

He sighed and put a small bag on the corner of the table. "They were a disaster. The stores are an overcrowded nightmare two weeks before Christmas, and I spent way too long wandering around trying to figure out what to get my father. In the end, I choked and got him a tie. That makes no sense, though. When he has to get dressed up, he wears his dress uniform, not a suit."

"What do you usually get him for Christmas?"

"I do the same thing every year. I send him a bottle of his favorite whisky, direct from the distillery. I thought I'd try for something more personal this year, but I came up empty."

"What does he usually give you?"

"He always does the same thing, too," he said. "He sends me a fifty-dollar bill inside a Christmas card. It was great when I was eighteen and broke. Now it's a bit odd, but I get it. He has no idea who I am or what I like, so the expectation is that I'll go out and buy myself a present with the money."

"What do you actually do with it?"

"I used to use it to get drunk. Now I buy a treat for the kids at the shelter. It seems less self-destructive."

It really did. I gestured at the small bag on my desk and said, "You told me you were going to do some clothes shopping for dinner with your dad, but it doesn't look like you succeeded."

"Nope, I failed at that, too. I wanted to find a dress shirt and pants, but nothing fit right. I guess I'll go with a sweater and my best pair of jeans, but I really wanted to do more than that."

"You should borrow one of my suits. The moving company brought my wardrobe and the rest of my things here when I came to San Francisco. After I give you the tour I promised you, let's go look through my stuff."

"You're bigger than me. I doubt your suits would fit."

"We're pretty damn close in size, so let's just see."

To begin the tour, we stepped out of the open doorway, and I held up my arms to indicate the two almost-walls squaring off the back corner of the building. Right now, they were just frameworks made of two-by-fours, so you could see right through them. "This is my office. I still need a desk. And everything else."

As Tracy followed me around the ground floor, which was currently a construction site with nothing actually finished, I explained what each of the zones I indicated would hold. When we reached the location of the café, diagonally across from my office in the front corner of the building, my construction foreman joined us. "I'm heading out, boss," he said. "The rest of the crew already took off, so I'll lock up behind me."

"Sounds good." I turned to Tracy and asked, "Did you meet Steve?"

Tracy nodded. "He let me in and introduced himself when I arrived."

After Steve took off, I described my plans for the café to Tracy, and he murmured, "It's pretty incredible."

"What is?"

"The scope of the project, for one thing. But also, your vision for this place, and your imagination. You have the ability to look around this empty building and see its potential, everything it's going to become. It's impressive."

"Thanks for the compliment."

He followed me up a back staircase to the second floor, and I showed him where the locker rooms, sauna, and studios for fitness classes were going to be. Then we climbed one more flight of stairs to the top floor, and I explained, "The third floor will be employees-only. My staff will have a locker room and a nice lounge at the front of the building. Behind that is storage, and then my apartment is in the back."

The apartment was the only part of the building with mostly completed walls and a door—though the door was lacking a handle, and the walls were unpainted drywall. It was coming together, though. "My crew was able to restore the original wood floor," I pointed out, as we stepped into the apartment, "and I love the high ceilings in here."

"All the windows are great, too," Tracy said, as he indicated the back wall.

"Yeah, they're also original. The view is of a brick wall, but there's enough space between this building and the one behind it to let in a lot of natural light." I indicated the right side of the space, where some cabinets had recently been installed. "That's the kitchen, obviously, and this is the main living area. My bed is going to go over to the left, against the far wall."

"So, the only interior walls are the ones around the bathroom?"

"That was the plan." I turned to him and asked, "Do you totally hate this layout?"

"No. It's just…"

"What?"

"It's going to be beautiful. But all open like this, it's just… not very cozy."

"If you were designing it, what would you change?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

It did, though. I really wanted Tracy to be comfortable here. "Please tell me."

He glanced at me before gesturing to the right. "If it was me, I'd separate the kitchen from the main living area with a half-wall, topped with a bar to give you a place to sit and have breakfast." I followed him to the other end of the apartment as he continued, "I'd also wall off the bedroom, and I'd find a spot to add a reading nook—a little corner with shelves and a comfortable chair, where you could curl up with a book and a cup of coffee."

"That sounds great. What do you think about colors? I was going to paint the walls white."

"Shades of blue are nice. They're pretty, and calming. But you're the one who has to like it."

"The apartment has almost been an afterthought, though," I admitted. "I've put all my energy into planning and designing the fitness center, and I haven't given this the attention it deserves. My only concern was having a place to eat and sleep. Other than that, I've barely thought about what it'll be like to actually live here, so your input is really valuable. You're talking about making it feel like a home, instead of treating it like little more than a hotel room."

He offered me a shy smile. "I'm glad I could help."

I started to get distracted by how cute he was, but then I made myself focus. "Let's go look through the boxes with my wardrobe. They're in the loading dock."

"That wasn't on the tour."

"I didn't include it because it's not much to look at, and I haven't decided how to utilize it long-term. It's from when this building was a department store, and it's been pretty handy during the remodel. It connects to a back alley and a small parking lot, which the construction crew has been using."

Tracy followed me back downstairs. The loading dock was a fairly large space with a cement floor and a truck-sized rolling door at the back. It was full of boxes, furniture, and construction materials. Fortunately, I'd hired professional movers to pack my things, so they were well-organized.

I folded back the lid of one of the tall wardrobe boxes, revealing several suits and shirts hanging from a metal bar. As I began flipping through them, I asked, "How upscale is the restaurant where you're meeting your dad?"

"Very. My father is in town for a friend's retirement party. This guy comes from a wealthy family, so they put up their out-of-town guests in an expensive hotel. We're meeting at the hotel's restaurant. I looked it up online, and it's definitely the kind of place that expects you to dress up."

I pulled a suit from the box and asked, "What do you think about this one?"

Tracy tried not to frown, but didn't quite succeed. "Maybe not purple."

"It's not purple, exactly. More like a dusty plum."

"Which is a fancy way of saying purple."

I traded it for a dark red one. "How about this?"

He was starting to look alarmed. "What about the black one?"

"That's a tuxedo." I pulled out a royal blue suit and told him, "This is probably the most normal color I own. I like suits with some flair."

"So I see. I've counted five suits in various floral prints."

"I love those, but I know they're not your style." I handed him the blue suit and selected a white dress shirt.

Once he'd traded his jeans and sweatshirt for the new outfit, he asked, "How do I look?"

"You look hot." He really did.

"The suit fits better than I thought it would."

"It's intentionally form-fitting on me, so it totally works on you." I reached for another box and asked, "What's your shoe size?"

"Fourteen."

"Me, too."

After I found him a pair of Italian loafers and a belt, I unpacked my ties and helped him select one. "You're all set," I said. "What time are you meeting your dad?"

"At eight."

"Good. Then we have plenty of time to go home and iron your outfit."

He glanced at me as he took off the suit and shirt and returned them to their hangers. When he did it again, it became clear he was trying to get up the nerve to say something. Finally, he mumbled, "I don't suppose… I mean, feel free to say no, but do you think you might want to come to dinner with my dad and me tonight?"

"I'd love to, but are you sure I wouldn't be intruding?"

"You wouldn't be, but I shouldn't have asked. It would be awkward for you."

"It'll be fine. I'm good at small talk, and if I can act as a buffer between you and your father, then I'm happy to help."

Tracy grabbed me in a hug and murmured, "Thank you."

He was dressed in nothing but a pair of briefs, and without thinking about it, I ran my hands down his back and nuzzled his cheek. In response, he planted a kiss on me. I hadn't been expecting that since we'd always saved this stuff for our nightly meetups in the living room, but I wasn't about to complain.

Instead, I deepened the kiss and felt Tracy's entire body respond. He grabbed onto me and rubbed his cock against mine through a few layers of fabric while I slid my hands lower and cupped his ass. When he whispered, "I want you so fucking bad, Ever," it drove me wild.

My couch was nearby, and after I tossed aside its moving blanket covering, I playfully pushed Tracy onto it. Then I stripped off his briefs before climbing on top of him. I was fully dressed while he was totally naked, and I thought that contrast was a huge turn-on.

He obviously did, too, judging by the way he writhed beneath me as I licked and kissed his chest. When I grabbed his hands and pinned them to the sofa on either side of his head, he murmured, "Fuck, yes."

I told him, "Don't move from that position," and a soft moan slid from his lips. It was so satisfying to watch him throughout all of this. It was the only time he dropped his guard and let go of some of his self-consciousness.

I used his precome as lube as I began to jerk him off. Over the past couple of weeks I'd been learning exactly what he liked, and edging him always produced a huge reaction. I brought him to the brink twice, easing him down again before finally bending down and sucking him. Moments later, he cried out, arching off the couch as he shot down my throat.

Even though he was thoroughly wiped out afterwards, he murmured, "Your turn," and started to sit up.

I gently pushed him back down and wrapped myself around him, since it was cold in here. "Just relax, baby. We'll worry about me next time."

"What time is it?"

"It's probably five-thirty. The construction crew works seven to four on Fridays, and it's been about ninety minutes since Steve took off."

"Don't you have your phone?"

"No, it's on my desk."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

A teasing grin curled the corner of Tracy's mouth. "I don't think you've ever been more than two feet from your phone before." I chuckled at that, and when he said, "We should get going," I got up and retrieved his clothes.

He pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and checked the time, and I asked, "Was I right?"

"Yes. It's exactly five-thirty."

"I'm going to go get my things and shut off the lights. I'll be back in five minutes."

By the time I returned, Tracy was fully dressed and gathering the suit and the rest of his outfit for that evening. As I selected a suit for myself, he asked, "Are you absolutely sure you want to come along?"

I turned to look at him. "Will it make you feel better if I'm there?" He seemed embarrassed as he ducked his head and nodded. "Then I'm definitely coming."

At ten minutes to eight, an efficient valet whisked away my SUV, and we stepped into the lobby of an upscale high-rise hotel near the Financial District. It was sleek and modern, with gold-on-gold seasonal decorations that were more about style than holiday cheer.

Tracy was fidgeting with a gift bag, which contained the nice bottle of twenty-year-old Scotch we'd bought on the way here. We'd decided to go with a fancy version of what he usually got his dad for Christmas, since we couldn't think of anything else.

He turned to me and asked, "Do I look alright?"

I ran my hands down his biceps and murmured, "You're absolute perfection." Seeing him dressed in my clothes did something to me. It was almost like I'd marked him as mine… even though that had no basis in reality.

His dad was already at the restaurant when we arrived. After the hostess led us to our table, Tracy and his father shook hands. To me, that seemed surprisingly formal. Then Tracy said, "Dad, I'd like you to meet my friend Everett Daley. Ever, this is my father, Hector Garcia."

His father and I studied each other curiously as we shook hands. He was about six-three with a heavyset build, a graying crew cut, and brown eyes like Tracy's. He'd opted for a tan suit and tie—which was probably making Tracy regret switching from his original gift—and he seemed uncomfortable. I didn't know if that had to do with me, his son, or the environment we were in.

"I had no idea this place was so swanky," his dad muttered, as we all took a seat. "Otherwise, I would have suggested meeting somewhere else."

I said, "We could still go to a different restaurant, sir."

"Call me Hector, and we're already here. Let's just make the best of it."

Tracy, meanwhile, seemed to have totally shut down. His posture was rigid, and he kept his gaze locked on the white tablecloth. When a waiter came by to take our drink order, his father and I both ordered wine, but he stuck with water. After an awkward pause, his father asked him, "Where are you working now?"

"I'm still a program assistant at the shelter."

"That's an awfully nice suit for someone who works at a nonprofit."

"It's borrowed. I didn't have anything to wear to a place like this."

"I didn't realize it was going to be so fancy."

"I know."

After a moment, Hector ventured, "You know, the Army offers a lot of high-paying contractor positions for civilians. With my connections, I could get you an interview, no problem."

"No, thank you. I like what I'm doing."

"Sure, I get that. Isn't it kind of a dead-end job, though? There's not really any room for advancement, or?—"

"I don't care about promotions. But as you know, I'm working toward a college degree, so I can become a counselor."

"Right, but that's going to take years," his dad said. "You need a bachelor's degree, then a master's, right? Not to mention special certifications? I don't know the whole process, but you're going to be well over forty by the time you finish your studies, and then you'll just be starting your career."

"I'm not in any hurry."

His dad kept pressing. "If you got a job as a contractor, you could still work toward your degree. But you'd also be able to put some money in the bank, with what those jobs pay. Like I was saying, with my connections, they're yours for the asking."

Tracy fidgeted with his napkin as he said, very quietly, "I already said no, Dad."

An awkward silence descended on the table. After a while, I tried to make conversation by asking Hector, "How long are you in town?"

"I fly out first thing Sunday morning."

"Where are you currently stationed?"

"I'm assigned to the American embassy in London through the end of the year."

"Oh, wow. What's that like?"

"Like any other assignment, really."

"London seems like such an interesting city. I've never been." I turned to Tracy and tried to draw him into the conversation. "Have you?"

I had no idea I was opening a can of worms with that question. Tracy didn't look at me as he muttered, "After my breakdown and hospital stay, my father pulled some strings and got me assigned to a desk job at the embassy. I guess he thought it would be a good place to hide me away."

A note of frustration crept into his father's voice. "I thought the change of scenery would be good for you."

"I should have taken a medical discharge after I got out of the hospital. I don't know why I let you talk me into finishing my contract."

"We both thought it was the best decision at the time."

A muscle worked in Tracy's jaw as he muttered, "No, you thought it was the best decision."

"Yes, I did. It was important to finish out your obligation. Besides, how would I have explained a medical discharge?"

Tracy looked pained as he asked, "Explained it to who, your Army buddies?"

"To everyone! What happened was your personal business, and not something I chose to discuss."

"Because you were ashamed of me."

The words hung in the air. His father looked guilty and didn't try to deny it. I had no idea what to say, or how to steer the conversation back on track.

Fortunately, the waiter returned just then with our drinks. The moment the wine hit the table, Hector and I tossed it back. I wished it was something stronger. When the waiter asked if we were ready to order, all three of us picked up our menus and ordered the first things we saw.

When we were alone again, Hector took a stab at changing the subject. "So, Everett. What do you do for a living?"

I was more than happy to take the ball and run with it. "I used to own a gym in L.A., but I sold it earlier this year. Now I'm building one here in San Francisco that's four times the size."

As Hector asked some questions and I told him all about my fitness center, Tracy's posture relaxed—just a little. We managed to make it through dinner this way. I felt bad about dominating the conversation, but both father and son seemed more than fine with it.

At the end of the meal, all of us declined coffee and dessert, and Tracy excused himself to go to the men's room. As soon as he was gone, Hector turned to me and said, "You're his boyfriend, aren't you?"

"It, um… it's complicated."

"It's okay. I know Tracy probably told you not to say anything, because he thinks I don't approve. I'll admit, it's odd for me, since he's never introduced me to anyone before. But you seem like a good man."

"Why did you wait until he was gone to say that?"

"I figured it would make him uncomfortable. We've never been close, and I worry about saying the wrong thing and making everything even worse."

"What do you think is preventing you two from being close?"

"A lifetime of history, I suppose. When he was a kid, he and his mom were very close, and I was only able to spend time with him between deployments. Then, after she died, we were both devastated. I couldn't give him the support he needed, because I was going through it, too. He was only ten years old at the time, poor kid. I remarried as soon as I could because he needed a mother, but he never bonded with either of my ex-wives, or the girlfriends I brought around later. I think it actually made things worse instead of better."

It definitely had. Tracy must have felt abandoned over and over again, by the stepmothers and mother figures who disappeared from his life when they broke up with his dad. I knew from personal experience what those feelings could do to a person.

But I didn't say any of that, of course. Instead, I told him, "You should talk to your son about this."

"I don't think he wants to hear what I have to say."

"Sure he does." When Hector didn't reply, I said, "Come to our apartment for brunch tomorrow. It can just be a nice, casual meal, no pressure. Even if neither of you is ready for a big heart-to-heart, it'll be good for you to spend some time together."

"You two live together?"

"Yeah, as roommates."

He'd already convinced himself that Tracy had sworn me to secrecy about our relationship, so he murmured, "Uh huh." Then he said, "Tomorrow's going to be pretty busy. I don't think I have time to come over." I thought that was bullshit, but I didn't call him on it.

Tracy returned to the table and asked us, "Are you ready to go?"

"We just need the bill," his father said.

"I already paid it."

Hector sounded annoyed as he asked him, "Why did you do that? Dinner was going to be my treat."

"For exactly this reason, so we wouldn't argue over who was going to pay."

Tracy picked up the gift bag and brought it with us to the lobby. When we were about to go our separate ways, he handed over the present and said, "Merry Christmas, Dad."

His father pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it over. "Merry Christmas. Should I open this now?"

"No."

"Okay. I'll talk to you soon, then."

When they shook hands, I wanted to yell hug each other already! I doubted that would go over big though, so I just took my turn shaking Hector's hand as I told him, "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"You too, Everett. I hope to see you again."

He headed to the elevator, and Tracy practically bolted for the door. Once we got outside, he took a deep breath and whispered, "Thank god that's over."

While we waited for the valet to bring my SUV around, he tore open the envelope and showed me its contents. It held a generic Christmas card signed only with "Dad," and a fifty-dollar bill. As he stuck it in his pocket, he said, "I think I'll use that to buy the ingredients for sugar cookies, along with a lot of fun sprinkles and cookie cutters. Then I'll bring everything to the shelter on Monday. The residents will probably enjoy doing some baking and cookie decorating."

"That's a nice idea."

He didn't say anything else until we were almost home. At that point, he murmured, "I'm sorry about all of that."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I didn't mean to make it so awkward. I thought we could just chat for an hour, eat a meal, and go our separate ways."

"I feel awful. I didn't realize I was bringing up a sensitive subject when I asked you about London."

"Don't blame yourself. My relationship with my dad is full of land mines. If it hadn't been that one, it would have been something else."

He turned his head, so he was staring out the passenger window. After a while, I said, "I tried to invite him over for brunch tomorrow."

"He turned you down, didn't he?"

"He said his day was too busy."

"The event he's in town for is actually a banquet that takes place in the evening, but whatever. He obviously feels like he fulfilled his fatherly obligation with this dinner, so why inflict more of me on himself?" After a minute, Tracy glanced at me and asked, "What did you two talk about while I was gone?"

"He told me you both struggled when your mom died, and he said he remarried quickly because he wanted you to have a mother again."

"I wasn't even gone for ten minutes. How did the conversation get that personal, that fast?"

"I don't know, and I'm sorry if I overstepped."

"It's my fault. I'm the one who dragged you into the middle of my family drama."

That was the last thing he said until we were in our apartment. I told him, "If you want to talk, I'll make us some tea."

"Thanks, but I think I'm just going to go to bed."

We said good night, and I felt a twinge of disappointment as I watched him walk away. I knew he was hurting, and I really wanted to help. But I couldn't make him open up, not if he didn't want to.