Marie Sexton - Coda 02 - A to Z (19 page)

Matt came back with the broom, and I had to move out of the bathroom to make room for him. Jared came up behind me, his own wild blond curls hanging loose around his face.

“You look good,” he said to Angelo.
Ang held the trimmer toward him. “Your turn.”

Matt moved so fast, I almost wondered if he had super powers. He grabbed the trimmer out of Angelo’s hand and yanked the plug out of the wall all at once. “Don’t even think about it,” he growled, and Jared laughed.

We were just leaving when Matt suddenly said, “Wait, Angelo!” He went back down the hall and came back out a minute later with a book, which he handed to Angelo. “This is the one I was telling you about. You’ll love it. Trust me.” Angelo didn’t look enthusiastic. In fact he actually looked a little bit green. Matt didn’t seem to notice. “Keep it as long as you want.”

“Thanks,” Angelo said, but his heart definitely wasn’t in it. He was quiet the whole way home, just staring at that book like it was a snake that might bite him.

You always hear about those kids who get through high school without learning how to read, but I knew he wasn’t one of them. Yes, he had dropped out at sixteen, but that certainly didn’t make him illiterate. I had seen him read the blurbs on the back of the DVD cases and write an inventory list, and I had read notes he had left for me. His spelling wasn’t great, and he seemed to have no idea what an apostrophe was. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t read.

“You want to talk about it?” I asked.
“’Bout what?”
“The book.”
“Nothin’ to talk about.”

“Okay.” I knew it was still bothering him, but I also knew he wouldn’t say anything until he was ready, so I waited. Once we were back at my place, I went in the kitchen and started making dinner—lasagna. I had been cooking dinner a couple of nights each week. I couldn’t believe how good it felt to have a real house, with a real kitchen. And Ang there with me, for tonight at least. I opened a bottle of wine and was just pouring a glass when he came in.

For a while he just watched me. I waited. I got the noodles out of the water and browned the sausage, and still I waited. Finally he said, “Can’t read it.”

“Why not?”

He slumped against the counter, and he looked so young and so dejected, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or put my arms around him. “Just can’t.”

I waited again, but nothing else seemed to be forthcoming. I put down the cheese I was grating, turned around so I could face him and leaned against the counter. “If you don’t want to read it, don’t read it. But if you’re choosing not to read it just because you think you can’t, I’m not sure that’s a good reason.” He looked at me skeptically. I racked my brain, drank a little wine, and finally managed to pull something out of my memory. “It’s like when Luke Skywalker is first learning to use the lightsaber. Ben puts that helmet on him, with the visor down, and Luke says he can’t do it. But once he decides to trust Ben, and he tries it, and it works.” I smiled at him triumphantly, and he grudgingly smiled back.

“Pretty proud of yourself for that one, aren’t you?” I laughed. “I am, actually.”

But as quickly as it had come, his smile was gone again. “Don’t want Matt to know I can’t read it.”

 

“I’m still not sure why you think you can’t.”

He sighed, walked over, and leaned against me, looking up at me. It was strange to be able to see his face, instead of having all that hair in the way. “Have to be smart to read books.”
“You don’t think you’re smart?”

He shook his head. “Never even finished high school.” Finally we were getting to the real issue. But it pained me to see that he actually believed what he said.

For the first time ever, I didn’t have to brush his hair out of the way before looking into his eyes. “I don’t even know where to start on that one. First, you don’t have to be smart to read books. Lots of idiots read books. Trust me, the ability to read does not necessarily mean the ability to think. Second, whether or not you graduated from high school or ever went to college has nothing to do with how smart you are. Yes, you dropped out, but Ang, you’re
not
stupid. And something like this—it’s exactly the kind of thing that you’re good at.”

“Reading?” he asked in confusion.

 

“Not reading, specifically, but understanding things. Finding the deeper meaning.”

 

He shook his head at me and said honestly, “Don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Okay I’ll show you. What was that movie we watched the other night, with Mel Gibson?”

 

“
Signs
.”

 

“Right. What was it about?” Because, truly, I didn’t get it. I just thought it was weird.

 

“Faith.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“
Really?”

“Yeah, man.” I could tell that he didn’t understand why I was asking, but he went on anyway. “See, his wife died in that freak accident. But she lived just long enough to give him a message. And even though he lost his faith after that, that message ended up bein’ what saved him and his family. So maybe it wasn’t a freak accident after all, right? Maybe it was meant to be. And that little girl was all freaky ’bout her water, but that’s part of what saved them too. Little things that all ended up savin’ them. It’s like his brother said; you can look at it as coincidence, or you can trust that it has a meaning. So in the end, he gets his faith back.”

“Ang, you know what I thought it was about?”
“What?”
“Aliens.”
He laughed at me. “Well, yeah, but not
really
.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, Angelo. I was in honors English in high school and took literature classes in college, but all that shit about themes and symbolism—I never got any of it. I thought it was just bullshit. But you get it.” He actually looked thoughtful at that. I could see the wheels turning behind his dark eyes. “I can count on one hand the number of books I’ve read since college, so I won’t think any of less of you if you don’t want to read it. But I think you should try. I think you might like it. It might open up a whole new world for you.” I almost had him convinced. I could tell. He wanted to believe me. “Just read the first chapter and see what happens. If you don’t like it, then quit. What have you got to lose, Ang?”

And suddenly he smiled at me, really smiled, with no more doubts in his eyes, and it was beautiful to see it. “Zach….” He put his arms around my neck, and looked into my eyes, and I knew what he was trying to say. He even opened his mouth, but it was like the words just couldn’t make it past his throat.

I put my arms around him and kissed him. “I know.”

He put his head on my chest, and for a minute we just stood there. Then suddenly he smiled up at me and started to unbutton my pants. That made me hard immediately. I tried to kiss him, but he pulled away and went down on his knees in front of me. He pulled my pants down just far enough to be out of the way, and then his mouth was on me.

I was convinced that nobody in the world could give a blow job like Angelo. It was unbelievable. I’ve never been able to do the whole deep throat thing, but he could. He sucked me all the way in, and I had to grab on to the counter behind me to keep myself upright. He had this mysterious way of making it feel like his tongue was constantly teasing the sensitive spot right below my slit, even when I was so deep in his mouth that I could feel his nose against my pubic bone. I let go of the counter with one hand but then didn’t know what to do with it. I wanted to touch him, but I knew better than to touch his head. I settled for grabbing a handful of his shirt. His hands were moving, from my thighs, up my hips, over my stomach, and back down. It was amazing, his warm mouth, and whatever he was doing with his tongue. I wanted to tell him before I came, but I only managed to choke out his name before it hit me.

It seemed like ages later, when I came down from it. He was standing in front of me, half-way holding me up. My shirt was unbuttoned, and he was kissing my chest. I put one arm around him and reached with my other hand for his belt. “Tell me what you want, Ang. I’ll do anything you want.”

He looked up at me then, and it didn’t matter what he could or couldn’t say with words, because it was all in his eyes. He pushed my hand away from him. “You already did, Zach.”

I finally got the lasagna together and took my glass of wine into the living room. He was on the couch. And he was reading.
…Angelo
I
WAKE
up in Zach’s bed, early Sunday mornin’. We moved apart in the night like we always do.

I don’t sleep here every night. Sometimes I still have to go home. The nights are the hardest, tryin’ to keep that damn bird in my chest quiet long enough for me to fall asleep. But the mornin’s are easy. I love wakin’ up and hearin’ him breathin’ next to me.

For a minute I just watch him sleep. He’s startin’ to get tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He swears he found a gray hair the other day. He laughed, but I could tell it really did bother him a little.

I’ve seen pictures of his dad. He’s got the same dark hair that Zach has but with gray mixed in at the sides. I know that’s how Zach’s will be too. He’ll still be cute as he is now but somehow a little more distinguished. I think it’s gonna be sexy as hell. I like thinkin’ I’ll be here to see it.

I scoot closer, nudge him a little. He wakes up enough to wrap an arm around me and pull me tight against him. Spooning. Such a stupid word. I’d never say it out loud. But that’s what it is, and it’s my favorite part of the mornin’. I love the way he fits against me, the way he sighs a little as he relaxes into it, and the way I can feel it when he starts to wake up for real and gets hard against me.

I wait for him to relax, for his breathin’ to slow again. Then, just barely, I push my hips back against him.

 

He makes that sound I love so much: halfway a sigh, halfway a moan. His arm tightens ’round my waist, and then he pushes back. “Hate to wake you,” I say, smilin’.

 

I can tell he’s smilin’, too, when he answers. “Liar. You love to wake me up.” And of course he’s right.

 

I push against him again, and this time he really does moan. “I can stop and let you go back to sleep.”

Sometimes that happens. Sometimes we just tease each other a little before driftin’ off together. But today he chuckles and says, “Not a chance, angel.” He calls me that now sometimes. It’s silly, but it always makes me smile.

We go on like that for a while, just pushin’ against each other. Eventually he reaches down and pushes my boxers off, then his. He rolls me slowly onto my stomach. His weight on my back is so perfect. “Ang,” he asks quietly, “is this okay?”

He always asks. Kinda funny, really, but sweet too. “Yes.”

He gets the lube out of the drawer. He’s still on top of me, kissin’ the back of my neck, and then I feel one of his fingers slide into me. My breath catches, and he moans in response. Sometimes he’ll tease me to climax this way, just usin’ his fingers on that sweet spot inside while I grind against the bed, but not today.

His finger is gone, and then his cock is pushin’ against me. He goes incredibly, agonizingly slow. Not thrustin’. Just gently pushin’ in, one tiny nudge at a time. He’s still kissin’ my neck and whisperin’ that he loves me. Just barely, barely movin’ against me. It’s the sweetest torture in the world. I resist the urge to push back against him, but the anticipation makes me whimper a little.

“I love when you do that,” he says and pushes in another fraction of an inch.

He’s about halfway in now, and I’m so close. I feel like I’m stretched so thin, pulled so tight, I can barely breathe. It’s exquisite and frightenin’, all at the same time. I don’t know if I should beg him to keep goin’ or beg him to finally fuck me for real so I can climax. “Zach?” I whisper.

“Shhh.” Another tiny nudge. “Like this, Ang.” One of his hands slides down, under my stomach, down to my groin. “Can I make you come like this?” His hand closes around my cock, and he strokes me but just barely. “With only this?”

“Yes!” It’s almost a sob.

“Good,” he says. “I’m close too, Ang.” His hand is movin’ on me, touchin’ me, strokin’ me just right, exactly the way I like. He knows me so well. Then he shoves in that last little bit, and that’s all it takes. It’s amazin’, such a rapid, overwhelmin’ relief. I hold my breath so long, I start to see spots. My body clenches around him, and then he comes too.

I finally manage to catch my breath again. He’s still on top of me, kissin’ my neck and my shoulders.

“Tomorrow, I’ll let you sleep,” I say, and he laughs. “I hope not.”

He rolls off of me, and I get out of bed. He doesn’t, though. In an hour or two, he’ll get up and go for a run, but for now, he just pulls the covers over his head and goes right back to sleep. He always does. One more thing about him that I love.

Little later that mornin’, I’m still loungin’ ’round on the couch in sweats when Matt knocks on the door. I know it’s him right away ’cause anybody else would ring the bell. Matt pounds on it instead, like the damn thing insulted him personally, and he’s here to set it straight. Must be somethin’ they taught him in cop school.

Sure enough when I open the door, it’s him, leanin’ against the door jamb, and Jared standin’ behind him.

 

“What’s your problem?” I ask. Jared looks a little startled, but Matt just raises his eyebrow at me. He never takes my bait. “Get dressed,” he says and pushes past me into the house. “Wear something warm.”

 

“Where the hell we goin’?”

“To church!” Jared says with way too much enthusiasm. ’Specially since I know for a fact he doesn’t believe in God. “Here, you can wear this,” and he hands me a Denver Broncos shirt.

“What the fuck?” is about all I manage to say.

 

“We have an extra ticket to the game,” Matt says to me. “Go get dressed. We don’t want to miss kickoff.”

I go in the bedroom, where Zach’s awake again. Probably woke up when muscle boy pounded on the door. “What’s Matt doing here so early?” he asks.

I crawl onto the bed, lay down on him so I can look down into his eyes. “Can I have the day off?” I ask. That makes him laugh. He always thinks it funny when I act like he’s my boss not my lover. ’Course he’s both, but I’m glad he doesn’t let one get in the way of the other. “Seriously, Zach. They want to take me to the football game, but I’m s’posed to work today.”