don’t want to do the wrong thing with you .” But Vincent wasn’t a braver man. So he finally shrugged, letting that stand in for the crap he couldn’t say because it made him sound barely functional. “That’s why I got the frozen pie crust too. In case I mess up. I want it to turn out all right. You wouldn’t want a burnt pie crust.”
“That’s just good planning.” Cory managed to make pie crust anxiety sound normal. Maybe it was. After all, what did Vincent know about pie? “But, Vin, you should stay, some time.”
“What?” Vincent had lost track of the conversation somewhere around the time Cory reached out to touch his arm. Cory’s hand was hot from holding the mug of tea.
“Stick around instead of running off, see what happens.” Cory’s melting eyes had Vincent captivated. “I might sound glib but I’m serious. Good or bad, you learn a lot that way.”
Vincent could barely breathe. “About what?”
Cory had a shrug of his own for that, but it was more tense than relaxed. “Other people. Yourself. I spent every holiday with my family for a long time. Long enough to learn that they love me because they knew me as a kid, but as an adult, they only tolerate me. They joke a lot, mean jokes, Vin, cruel jokes. They don’t think they’re being cruel, but they drag me to meet girls, over and over again. That’s not respecting who I am.” He released a long breath. “I learned what I can take, and what I won’t stand for, and who I’d rather spend a day off with.”
His hand was warm and solid on Vincent’s arm.
Vincent gaped at him.
He was suddenly nervous and dry-mouthed, and Cory might have been too. He removed his hand and took a huge, probably scalding, swallow of tea, then made a strangled noise. But he kept the mug in his hand as he rose to his feet. “I forgot to ask if you were coming over tomorrow.” He took another sip, slower this time, with his eyes on the mug. “You are, aren’t you?”
Cory blew on his tea some more, then took another swallow. Maybe he figured his taste buds were already gone or he liked his tea hot. Or maybe he was nervously avoiding Vincent’s eye. “I won’t leave you alone with strangers, I promise.”
That effectively stopped Vincent from reminding him he didn’t do well with new people. He thought of that pretty little room, so much more casual than a dining room. But a group of strangers…. For some reason, Vincent remembered his tea. He’d left it on the counter. How strange. But he’d been so eager to get closer to Cory again. He always was. Now he could do something about it. “I could…. I could stop by. Your friends wouldn’t mind?” He had no idea what he was doing. There was no way this was going to end well.
But Cory’s relieved grin made him feel like a hero. “Bring them pie and you could show up with Republicans and they wouldn’t care.”
“That can’t be true.” Vincent was too familiar with the pauses in conversation that he couldn’t fill, or couldn’t seem to fill right. He answered too fast, then too slowly. He’d get looks. He’d gotten those looks since he was a kid and he’d say something so incredibly gay. First, the adults stared, and then the other kids had started to as well. If it wasn’t that, that uncertain, judgmental pause he’d come to dread, it was how he wasn’t loud and confident. It was his mother reminding him that a strong boy wasn’t afraid of taking the lead. He was supposed to be outgoing. Successful people, successful men, were supposed to be, but Vincent wasn’t. Vincent didn’t mind people how they were, but they always seemed to mind how he was. “They’ll think I’m weird. You’ll think--” Vincent stopped himself a second too late.
There would be no hiding it, in that small of a space, around that many new people. Not even with a pill, although Ativan and wine together wasn’t a good idea anyway. Perhaps if he only took half a pill, like he had for his job
“That’s just good planning.” Cory managed to make pie crust anxiety sound normal. Maybe it was. After all, what did Vincent know about pie? “But, Vin, you should stay, some time.”
“What?” Vincent had lost track of the conversation somewhere around the time Cory reached out to touch his arm. Cory’s hand was hot from holding the mug of tea.
“Stick around instead of running off, see what happens.” Cory’s melting eyes had Vincent captivated. “I might sound glib but I’m serious. Good or bad, you learn a lot that way.”
Vincent could barely breathe. “About what?”
Cory had a shrug of his own for that, but it was more tense than relaxed. “Other people. Yourself. I spent every holiday with my family for a long time. Long enough to learn that they love me because they knew me as a kid, but as an adult, they only tolerate me. They joke a lot, mean jokes, Vin, cruel jokes. They don’t think they’re being cruel, but they drag me to meet girls, over and over again. That’s not respecting who I am.” He released a long breath. “I learned what I can take, and what I won’t stand for, and who I’d rather spend a day off with.”
His hand was warm and solid on Vincent’s arm.
Vincent gaped at him.
He was suddenly nervous and dry-mouthed, and Cory might have been too. He removed his hand and took a huge, probably scalding, swallow of tea, then made a strangled noise. But he kept the mug in his hand as he rose to his feet. “I forgot to ask if you were coming over tomorrow.” He took another sip, slower this time, with his eyes on the mug. “You are, aren’t you?”
Cory blew on his tea some more, then took another swallow. Maybe he figured his taste buds were already gone or he liked his tea hot. Or maybe he was nervously avoiding Vincent’s eye. “I won’t leave you alone with strangers, I promise.”
That effectively stopped Vincent from reminding him he didn’t do well with new people. He thought of that pretty little room, so much more casual than a dining room. But a group of strangers…. For some reason, Vincent remembered his tea. He’d left it on the counter. How strange. But he’d been so eager to get closer to Cory again. He always was. Now he could do something about it. “I could…. I could stop by. Your friends wouldn’t mind?” He had no idea what he was doing. There was no way this was going to end well.
But Cory’s relieved grin made him feel like a hero. “Bring them pie and you could show up with Republicans and they wouldn’t care.”
“That can’t be true.” Vincent was too familiar with the pauses in conversation that he couldn’t fill, or couldn’t seem to fill right. He answered too fast, then too slowly. He’d get looks. He’d gotten those looks since he was a kid and he’d say something so incredibly gay. First, the adults stared, and then the other kids had started to as well. If it wasn’t that, that uncertain, judgmental pause he’d come to dread, it was how he wasn’t loud and confident. It was his mother reminding him that a strong boy wasn’t afraid of taking the lead. He was supposed to be outgoing. Successful people, successful men, were supposed to be, but Vincent wasn’t. Vincent didn’t mind people how they were, but they always seemed to mind how he was. “They’ll think I’m weird. You’ll think--” Vincent stopped himself a second too late.
There would be no hiding it, in that small of a space, around that many new people. Not even with a pill, although Ativan and wine together wasn’t a good idea anyway. Perhaps if he only took half a pill, like he had for his job
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