interview, Cory wouldn’t completely see his every social failure.
“Weird? Vin, honey, you haven’t met my friends. They don’t know what weird is. That’s the point of this Thanksgiving for us.” Cory reached out, then seemed to rethink it and pulled his hand back. “It’s going to be us, being ourselves, doing what we want.”
“You still can’t actually want me there.” Maybe this was pity, Vincent worried. Cory had heard that phone call with Judith. He’d known Vincent would be pathetically alone on Thanksgiving and he wanted to offer him a place to go. Cory was a good man, thoughtful. Maybe he knew someone else with anxiety issues and had known that he’d have to work Vincent up to the idea—which was admittedly a lot for one stranger to go through for another stranger unless Cory was in the habit of rescuing people.
Perhaps he was setting Vincent up with someone. His friend Ricky seemed a likely candidate. It wasn’t as if Cory had seen Vincent around the complex and decided that the awkward, chubby, bespectacled loner in 220 was his kind of adorable. Vincent generally wasn’t anyone’s kind of adorable. Once in a while he attracted men who were into bears, but when they realized he wasn’t gruff or stern, or they got a load of his many issues, they hit the road. Vincent understood. It probably took a particular sort of person to desire a fucked-up cuddle bear of their very own.
“I invited you, didn’t I?” Cory could make his warm gaze harden to iron. Vincent gulped. Cory worked his jaw. “I’ve already got my family refusing to understand what I want, Vincent. I don’t need it from you too.” Vincent imagined there was an alarmed look on his face, because Cory tossed his head and briefly closed his eyes. Then he began again. “I’m inviting you to dinner tomorrow because I think you should be there. Would you like to come?”
His gentle voice after that hint of hurt and anger was almost painful. Vincent shivered and knew this was going to go one of two ways: he said yes and he humiliated himself all day tomorrow, or he said no, and humiliated himself right now and every day after that when he ran into Cory. There would be no way to impress Cory if he went. Cory would see how Vincent was around others. But chickening out wasn’t going to do the job either.
Vincent wished his monumental act of bravery was the kind of courage and daring that people noticed, and not the very normal act of attending a small party. He wished he could explain in some meaningful way the amount of strength it would require for him to talk to that many strangers for a long period of time. He wanted Cory to know he would do these things for him.
But all he said was, “Can I… can I leave if I’m uncomfortable?”
He was sweating, waiting for Cory to smile again. And then Cory did. “Of course. I’m not kidnapping you.” He leaned in, so close Cory’s eyes went even wider. He seemed to notice Cory’s tension. “That was a joke, Vin.”
Obviously it was a joke. Vincent’s nerves simply couldn’t handle humor right now. He nodded, a quick, jerky motion, and inhaled the tea on Cory’s breath.
“And if you’re too nervous, it’s okay. I mean,” Cory sighed, “I’ll be disappointed. But I’ll get it.”
But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t know Vincent had already convinced himself he had to do it. He was still talking and stepping slowly, gracefully, toward the door.
“I’m nervous too. Sure, if it doesn’t work out, I can make my guests something else to eat. No one will starve. But I’m still freaking out. Hey.” He drank more of his tea, then put the mug down on the counter because Vincent wasn’t moving. “Hey, if something is terrible tomorrow at dinner, lie to me. I don’t like to lie, but you can shield my feelings all you like.”
“Everything will be fine.” From the other side, irrational fear sounded as stupid as it felt. Vincent was less sympathetic than
“Weird? Vin, honey, you haven’t met my friends. They don’t know what weird is. That’s the point of this Thanksgiving for us.” Cory reached out, then seemed to rethink it and pulled his hand back. “It’s going to be us, being ourselves, doing what we want.”
“You still can’t actually want me there.” Maybe this was pity, Vincent worried. Cory had heard that phone call with Judith. He’d known Vincent would be pathetically alone on Thanksgiving and he wanted to offer him a place to go. Cory was a good man, thoughtful. Maybe he knew someone else with anxiety issues and had known that he’d have to work Vincent up to the idea—which was admittedly a lot for one stranger to go through for another stranger unless Cory was in the habit of rescuing people.
Perhaps he was setting Vincent up with someone. His friend Ricky seemed a likely candidate. It wasn’t as if Cory had seen Vincent around the complex and decided that the awkward, chubby, bespectacled loner in 220 was his kind of adorable. Vincent generally wasn’t anyone’s kind of adorable. Once in a while he attracted men who were into bears, but when they realized he wasn’t gruff or stern, or they got a load of his many issues, they hit the road. Vincent understood. It probably took a particular sort of person to desire a fucked-up cuddle bear of their very own.
“I invited you, didn’t I?” Cory could make his warm gaze harden to iron. Vincent gulped. Cory worked his jaw. “I’ve already got my family refusing to understand what I want, Vincent. I don’t need it from you too.” Vincent imagined there was an alarmed look on his face, because Cory tossed his head and briefly closed his eyes. Then he began again. “I’m inviting you to dinner tomorrow because I think you should be there. Would you like to come?”
His gentle voice after that hint of hurt and anger was almost painful. Vincent shivered and knew this was going to go one of two ways: he said yes and he humiliated himself all day tomorrow, or he said no, and humiliated himself right now and every day after that when he ran into Cory. There would be no way to impress Cory if he went. Cory would see how Vincent was around others. But chickening out wasn’t going to do the job either.
Vincent wished his monumental act of bravery was the kind of courage and daring that people noticed, and not the very normal act of attending a small party. He wished he could explain in some meaningful way the amount of strength it would require for him to talk to that many strangers for a long period of time. He wanted Cory to know he would do these things for him.
But all he said was, “Can I… can I leave if I’m uncomfortable?”
He was sweating, waiting for Cory to smile again. And then Cory did. “Of course. I’m not kidnapping you.” He leaned in, so close Cory’s eyes went even wider. He seemed to notice Cory’s tension. “That was a joke, Vin.”
Obviously it was a joke. Vincent’s nerves simply couldn’t handle humor right now. He nodded, a quick, jerky motion, and inhaled the tea on Cory’s breath.
“And if you’re too nervous, it’s okay. I mean,” Cory sighed, “I’ll be disappointed. But I’ll get it.”
But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t know Vincent had already convinced himself he had to do it. He was still talking and stepping slowly, gracefully, toward the door.
“I’m nervous too. Sure, if it doesn’t work out, I can make my guests something else to eat. No one will starve. But I’m still freaking out. Hey.” He drank more of his tea, then put the mug down on the counter because Vincent wasn’t moving. “Hey, if something is terrible tomorrow at dinner, lie to me. I don’t like to lie, but you can shield my feelings all you like.”
“Everything will be fine.” From the other side, irrational fear sounded as stupid as it felt. Vincent was less sympathetic than
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