9. Boston

CHAPTER 9

BOSTON

I didn't see Ford for the rest of the week, which I imagined was by design. After our phone call jerk-off session, we'd stayed in touch over text, but nothing as intense as those conversations had been. I'd gotten off plenty of times since our phone call without asking, and I wondered if that was allowed, but I couldn't bring myself to ask about it on the off chance my brain was trying to take things too far. There was no way Ford cared about what I did with my body when he wasn't around or on the phone. That was just some unanticipated kind of wishful thinking on my part.

I'd spent a lot of time during the week trying to unpack why I'd even thought about texting him to get the okay in the first place. Sure, it made sense when we were in the heat of the moment, but asking for his approval for a shower jerk-off Wednesday morning felt a little over the top, even for me. The feelings around the way Ford wanted to control my body were only half the battle I'd been fighting, though. The giant elephant in the room was that he was, of course, a man.

I'd kissed a man .

I'd kissed him for hours and we both had erections, and I'd really wanted to do more than just kiss him. When he talked me through how to get myself off later that night, I'd pictured him beneath me, pretended my fist was his body. Just thinking about it was enough to make my cock thicken in my pants…less than opportune considering I was walking down the street in the middle of after-work rush hour on a Thursday.

I didn't have a destination in mind, but I found myself in front of the food bank with a bag of gyros in hand just the same. Since my parents had started sending Kale and me produce in more volume than we'd ever be able to work through, I'd ended up on a first-name basis with one of the administrators—Shawn. He was my age, born and raised in Brooklyn, and fully dedicated to serving those who struggled to serve themselves. Shawn was also funny and kind, and he reminded me of all the things I missed the most about home. Thinking about home reminded me that I did want to plan a visit back, no matter what Kale had to say about it. I could deal with that next week. There was enough on my plate already.

I was halfway up the steps when the massive front door swung open, the comforting smells of vegetable soup and fresh bread rolling down the stairs in waves.

"Is that you, Boston?" Shawn asked with a laugh. "I hardly recognize you if you're not carrying your weight in homegrown produce."

I chuckled, finishing my ascent of the steps. "I have dinner."

Shawn was at the top with a small family, a mother and two children who each clutched fresh and clean stuffed animals in their arms. He spoke softly to the mother, a reassuring hand on her shoulder, before stooping down to say something to each of the children. The three of them left, passing me with nervous smiles as they went.

"No vegetables today," I told him. "Just two wraps that need eating, and I was in the neighborhood."

Shawn checked his watch and inclined his head toward the inside of the building.

"They were the last to go and I'm just finishing up a batch of soup to freeze. Did you want to come in?" he asked.

I nodded my agreement and followed him inside. He latched the door locks behind me, and we both headed into the kitchen. There was an enormous pot on the stove, boiling and bubbling away. Shawn flipped the burner off and slid the pot onto the counter with an exhausted sigh.

"Just have to let it cool first," he said, jumping up onto the edge of a counter. I leaned against the fridge, unwinding the loose knot of my scarf. I reached into the bag and handed him one of the foil-wrapped treats.

"One for you," I said, reaching next for mine. I crumpled the bag and tossed it in the industrial gray trash can at the end of the counter.

"Thank you for this," he said, unwrapping his sandwich. His stomach growled so loud it echoed off the stainless steel appliances in the kitchen. "I didn't realize how hungry I was."

"You never do."

Shawn was far too busy putting everyone else ahead of himself. It was an admirable trait, if demonstrated with moderation, which Shawn rarely had. The food bank had been both a blessing and a curse for him. With surprisingly uninvolved owners, the entire operation fell on the shoulders of him and the other administrator, both of them grossly underpaid.

I'd offered on more than once to make donations, but Shawn had voiced concerns to me months before that the community donations weren't making it back to the kitchen itself. Instead, they were lining the pockets of the owners, but there wasn't much that Shawn could do. If he left, it was the community that would be punished, and he was too good of a person to let that happen.

"It's been a long couple of weeks," he said after inhaling half the gyro. "But the zucchini you brought by has been great. Made some soup with it, and some pasta sauce."

"And you still had a ton left over," I added with a grin.

"Not wrong." He pointed at the fridge I was currently resting against. "But we'll get it used before it goes bad. There's always people looking for fresh produce."

"You should partner with a local farm," I suggested.

"Local?" He scoffed. "Have you looked around lately, Boston?"

"Well, not local local, obviously." I finished off the last bite of my gyro and pitched the wrapper into the trash can. "But upstate somewhere or something."

"That's a lot of work, and Lisa and I don't have a lot of time."

"I wish I could do more to help."

"You bring us food," he said with a smile, ever the optimist. "Which is more than most. And you come help serve, which is also more than most."

I sighed, appreciating the sentiment of his messaging, but feeling helpless just the same.

"Unless you have plans to move upstate and open your own farm, Boston, you already do plenty, so don't worry about it." Shawn finished his gyro and dropped the wrapper into the trash next to mine. "That was so delicious. Thank you for bringing it by."

"Honestly, anytime." I thumped my head against the cool stainless steel behind me. "I did come with an ulterior motive, though. Not sure if that cancels out the good deed or not."

"Everyone has ulterior motives." He turned away from me and plunged a thermometer into the soup. "And we have plenty of time, so what's up?"

I'd debated if I wanted to talk to Shawn about Ford. Shawn and I were new friends, barely friends, and he didn't know much about my family history or current situation. He didn't know me as the straight twin, didn't know me as anything besides the man I really was. I worried if I confessed to someone who knew me more or knew me for longer, that the reception to my confession would be less than well received. If I sat with that, though, I knew it wasn't true. No one cared that Kale was gay and no one would care that I was probably bisexual or demisexual.

The problems were all in my head.

"I don't even know how to say this," I muttered, taking my glasses off and pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Generally putting words together to form a sentence is a good start." Shawn slid off the counter and shoved me out of the way so he could get into the fridge. He pulled out two cans of soda and handed me one before returning to his perch.

"I've kind of been…I don't know." I exhaled and popped the top on the can, taking a big swallow to buy myself time. "Talking with someone lately."

"Talking like dating? "

"Talking like talking," I corrected. "Not dating."

"Talking like we're talking?" he asked, a brow arched toward his hairline, "because you're not that great at it."

I laughed, shoulders sagging under the weight of my secret, the weight of my needs.

"Talking with intent," I clarified.

"A hook-up then?" he asked.

I nodded.

"That feels like a very normal thing, Boston." Shawn sipped his drink. "Is that not normal for you?"

"Not really."

"I don't mean to be forward, but what part of it?" He cocked his head to the side and scrunched his nose. "I don't want to pry, but I assume this is the conversation you wanted to have with me."

"It is," I said. "The prying helps."

Shawn laughed again. "I can ask leading questions, if that helps."

"It might."

"What's his name?"

I'd just raised my soda and taken a drink, but when the pronoun came out of Shawn's mouth so easily, I choked and sputtered, spitting soda out onto the floor. Shawn's eyes went wide and he jumped off the counter again, coming over and patting my back until my breathing went back to normal.

"Shit," I mumbled, setting my soda on the counter and reaching for a rag to clean up my mess.

Shawn went to the ground beside me, covering my hand with his and bringing my frantic swiping to a stop.

"Boston," he said my name gently, the way I'd heard him talk to scared parents and anxious children before. "What about what I just said caused that reaction?"

"How…how did you know he was a he?"

Shawn pried the rag out of my hand and sat on the floor. I slid down onto my ass next to him, stretching my legs out and mentally comparing my pressed wool slacks to his well-worn jeans.

"I just assumed." He let out a high-pitched squeak of a laugh. "Was I wrong?"

"A week ago you would have been."

"Oh." A smile formed on his face, and I dropped my head against the fridge and stared up at the glaringly fluorescent lights in the ceiling above us.

"What makes this one special?" he asked, bumping me with his shoulder until I scooted over so we could both lean against the fridge.

There were undoubtedly a thousand things that made Ford special, but considering the rules of our relationship—or lack thereof—I didn't want to spend too much time thinking about any of them. I was already far more invested in the man than I should be, considering we'd agreed there was no future in it for us.

"He's not special," I lied. "He's just my first."

My face burned, and I angled my head to the left, hoping Shawn wouldn't be able to see the color blooming on my cheeks.

"Do you want confirmation that this is totally normal? Even if you're a bit of a late bloomer?" he asked, patting my thigh.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I just haven't talked to anyone about it and I think I'm losing my mind. "

"Because you're attracted to a man?"

"Because I haven't told anyone," I said.

"What about your brother?" Shawn asked. "From what you've told me, the two of you are close and he's gay, right?"

"Yes to both, but the man in question is a friend of his."

Shawn laughed, kicking the dirty edge of his sneaker against my shoe. "I think they write books about this kind of thing."

"How do they end?"

"Happily," he assured me, using my leg to leverage himself back up to his feet. He checked the temperature on the soup and made a pleased sound. "Come help me batch this out and we can get out of here."

I knew where the storage containers were, so I pulled four of them out and lined them up on the counter while Shawn busied himself with the ladling and the pouring. He checked the temperature again before putting on the lids, then we put the containers into the fridge. Shawn didn't ask me any other questions while we worked to clean up the kitchen and turn off the lights, and I didn't offer him anything to go on until we were out and standing back on the steps.

"There's nothing wrong with being attracted the same gender, Boston," he said, giving me a soft rub across the top of my shoulder blades. "It's not the 1980s anymore."

"I know." I ground my molars together, giving him as complacent of a smile as I could manage. "I know."

"Did you want to get a drink?" he asked, an unexplained flicker of something in his eyes.

"I appreciate the offer, Shawn, but I think I'm good for now. "

The look in his eyes vanished as fast as it appeared, and he gave me a small and apologetic-looking nod.

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," he said, reaching out and giving my shoulder a squeeze.

"Thank you for that," I said, "and thank you for listening."

"That's what friends are for, right?" Shawn cleared his throat and headed down the steps, leaving me at the top to watch him go.

The conversation replayed over in my head, his words echoing more truth than lie the longer I thought about them. There wasn't any reason for me to be ashamed of being most likely interested in men now. What I didn't know, though, was why Ford was the only man who stirred up that attraction. Why he was the only one who made me want more than I ever had before?

When Shawn touched me, he might as well have been my brother. And I knew I hadn't spent a very long time thinking hard about what kind of men I found attractive or whether my blood burned when they touched me or not, but I worried even I had…

It would never compare to how I felt when I was with Ford.