Office Dynamics: M/M Workplace Straight to Gay First Time Romance (8 page)

“What are we doing?” Jonas said again. He didn’t want to sound clingy or needy but Luke’s voice kept echoing in the back of his head, persistent and annoying, ever since their conversation a week ago. He tried to drown it out countless times, but it just wouldn’t go away, and was made louder by the silence that followed each time Tris left to shower or check his e-mail after they had sex.

“What do you mean?” said Tris.

Jonas set the towel aside, touching his finger to the bumps of Tris’s spine. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t,” Tris said after a pause.

Jonas sighed again and nodded, pressing his forehead to Tris’s shoulder. He breathed in Tris’s fresh clean scent, his cool aftershave and citrusy soap.

Jonas didn’t want to lose this when he’d already fallen into the routine, when it was easy, so easy, to just turn up at Tris’s condo on a Friday night and crawl into bed with him, like slipping into old clothes. Three more weeks, he thought. It felt like a death sentence.

Jonas squeezed Tris in pulses, shivering as the coolness of Tris’s skin bit his. “Forget it,” he said. He was probably being stupid anyway.

Tris tipped his head back to kiss him on the jaw. “All right,” he said.

“By the way,” Jonas said, as Tris inclined his head to reach the corner of Jonas’ mouth. “Your mother wants to see you for lunch tomorrow so I rescheduled your dentist’s appointment.”

Tris smiled before patting him on the cheek. “Good boy,” he said, and if there were a trace of mockery in that, Jonas thought it best if he just ignored it.

He was going to have to get used to being Tris’s dirty little secret.

Jonas felt cheap, like a whore, but he couldn’t stop having sex with Tris. He didn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to, and the problem was: he didn’t want to.

The thing was, though – the
thing was,
or so he told himself, that it had to be the newness of it that had him reeled in so far. There was no other explanation for it, and it made sense, really: he was having a quarter-life crisis. He'd heard people joke about it, but like all jokes, this one had the ring of truth. Jonas was aimless, stumbling around like most millennials through a confusing post-2008 universe that didn't have much to offer for people who, like Tris, hadn't been born with silver spoons in their mouths and companies ready for them to inherit. It made sense that Jonas should wander hysterically into an unexpected gay phase to go with his unexpected administrative job, and even if he'd never exactly imagined being somebody's secretary-cum-mistress, at least it was something different, something a little bit exciting. But it wasn't the kind of thing you stuck with for long. It was the kind of thing you'd surely get sick of, and so Jonas just had to wait it out until he got sick of it, until the sheen of newness dulled and he could finally move on and get with his life.

He knew it would happen eventually.

It was why none of his relationships lasted: he got bored real quick and felt burdened by commitment. It was also why their arrangement worked so well in the beginning: all Jonas had to do was show up at Tris’s condo, work a little overtime, and then Tris would smile at him, that smile reserved for Jonas when all the paperwork was put away, and Jonas would know: it was pretty much imminent after that. Sex. With a guy, at first, it seemed like everything was just so much easier: you could get straight away to what you both actually wanted out of the arrangement without having to go through the motions of anything else first. It seemed, in many ways, to make up for the anxiety that curled in the pit of Jonas' stomach sometimes when he thought too hard about this, about what his dad would say, about whether he was (in Luke's voice),
like, gay now.

But then Jonas started wanting other things too, little things, that, despite their size could change their non-relationship significantly. It only takes so little to kill a man, Jonas knew. He wanted to stay for lunch.

“You can’t. I’m going out,” Tris told him. “Meeting friends at Club Regis.”

Always the same answer. Jonas was usually out of his hair before ten.

“No you aren’t,” Jonas said, just to see if Tris could be persuaded. “I know your schedule.”

Tris smiled indulgently and combed his hair in the dressing mirror, straightening out his curls which Jonas was a little disappointed to see go.

“Clearly,” Tris said, “Not as well as you might think.” And that was the end of that.

It only made sense that Jonas wanted what he could never have.

He called Luke about it because Luke, even if he were weird about advice, always listened to what you had to say before he doled out judgment.

“It must be nice to have a job with so much downtime,” Luke said over the phone after Jonas was done talking. He sighed, and Jonas could almost see him, sitting in the living room as his dogs swarmed his legs and the kids circled the couch, running.

Jonas heard yelling in the background and the sounds of a scuffle and Luke scolding his kids, telling them stop fighting.

“Welcome to the real world, brother dearest,” said Luke, afterwards when the clamor died down. “Where bad things happen to good people and hard work is often never rewarded. People are going to let you down, all the fucking time, Jonas, and if you have plans of living past twenty-five with your sanity intact, that's the first thing you should learn.”

“And, listen,” Luke continued after a noisy shuffle. “Your contract’s ending relatively soon anyway. So, that being said, you have nothing to worry about.”

Jonas sighed, rubbing a spot between his eyes. “You know,” he said, “Someday you’ll find love and then everything will be different.”

“I’m married,” Luke reminded him.

“Yeah, well,” Jonas said. “How’s that working out for you?”

Luke laughed, long and unforgiving. Laughter always sounded longer on the phone. “Shut up,” he said when he was done.” And come over here, will you? The kids miss you. Marge is making beef pot pie. Your favorite.”

“Fine,” Jonas acquiesced, thinking he needed a change of plans anyway. And he loved Marge’s cooking. “I’ll get in the shower, be there by noon.”

“Yeah, and rid yourself of that awful dirty hooker smell, all right?” said Luke.

“
Hey
,” Jonas said, laughing.

But it felt good and he felt better. And the shower definitely improved his mood.

---

Three weeks into December, when Jonas lay in the darkness that usually followed an orgasm, he turned his head and touched Tris on the shoulder. “You doing anything this Christmas?”

Tris rolled onto his side, leaning against his hand. His eyelashes were lowered like they usually were when he flirted. Jonas loved that about him, how his face was expressive in private, like he was sharing this precious secret with him and no one else.

Jonas often wondered if Tris had other guys, or girls on his payroll. He worried about things like that. He found that he worried a lot these days.

“Mm,” Tris said, “Any particular reason you’re asking me?” He leaned forward for a kiss which Jonas returned halfheartedly, one hand on Tris’s chest as a buffer.

“If you’re not,” Jonas said, throat weakening, “Maybe you can come up to my brother’s this weekend. We have this family dinner thing every year and I don’t know,” Jonas shrugged, too embarrassed to continue.

“Jonas,” Tris said.

Jonas raised his head. “What?”

“I can’t make promises,” Tris told him kindly, touching his face like Jonas was a kid that needed soothing. “We’re not, we aren’t--”

“Yeah,” Jonas said, nodding, laughing at himself. He felt like an idiot. Of course. “We’re not,” he said. 
Together
, he finished in his head. He understood perfectly why this was never going to work. He stood up to put on his shirt.

Tris, who had the gall to look hurt, watched him, hands folded in his naked lap. “Where are you going?”

“Need to take the kids out to the park or something while Luke’s out shopping for presents.” Jonas tugged his shirt over his head and was surprised when Tris handed him his pants, leaning up to kiss him fully on the mouth. He could still taste himself on Tris’s tongue and wondered if Tris often got sentimental about things like that.

Tris pulled away, nodding, and for a time Jonas almost wanted to stay forever. Tris swallowed and rested his hands on Jonas’ biceps, peering into his eyes with those wide baby blues. Straight to the heart, Jonas thought with a pang in his chest.

“I’ll be there,” Tris said, sliding off the bed and standing to his full height. “I mean, I’ll try. But no one else can know about us, does your brother--”

“Kind of.” Jonas shook out his pants and his wallet fell out of the back pocket so he picked it up from the floor. “The watch you lent me. He thought--” Jonas wanted to hit himself for being so damn articulate.

Tris nodded again. “I’ll call,” he promised. “But you, of all people, know how erratic my schedule’s like, so really, I don’t know if I’ll be able to go. But I want to. I do.”

“It’s fine,” Jonas said, pretending it wasn’t a big deal. “Don’t worry about it.”

Tris let him go after a squeeze. “I’ll see you at work,” he said, kissing Jonas one final time, loud and close-mouthed and, of all things, lingering. Jonas didn’t think it was appropriate because it always made his chest do funny things, dangerous things, like flutter about like the wings of a caged hummingbird.

He buttoned up his pants, fastened his belt. “See you,” he said, and turned his back.

On his way out, he grabbed an apple from the bowl in the kitchen.

Two days later, when Tris was a no-show for dinner, Jonas wasn’t really all that surprised or broken up about it. In a way, he’d anticipated the worse. He’d shown up, told Luke Tris might make a sudden appearance so he better not start telling his profane nativity story over dinner which involved Jewish bankers, and Luke slapped him on the arm and shook his head, rolling his eyes at Jonas and said, “It’s my house; I get to do what I want.”

Afterwards, when the kids were put to bed and Liam had stepped outside to take a phone call from his girlfriend, Luke pushed a cup of eggnog into Jonas’ hand and slung an arm around his shoulder in a friendly pat.

Luke lifted his own cup into the air, a wry salute. “Merry Christmas,” he said, smiling sadly in that knowing way characteristic of older brothers.

Jonas tugged the reindeer hat off his head and leaned against the wall. He peered into the darkness outside the living room window but all he could see were blankets of snow on the neighbor’s lawns and gleaming streetlights twinkling with the stars.

“Sure,” he said, licking his lips. “Cheers.”

---

“We’re going to miss you,” Giselle said, a week later. “Really, Jonas. You were awesome.”

“Take care, man,” said Terry. “Don’t forget to text.”

“You too,” Jonas said, pointing to the two of them. “Take care of each other.”

“Oh, we 
will
,” Giselle promised, grinning at Terry who grinned back. They bumped their shoulders together.

What a couple, Jonas thought.

He wanted to be happy for them, he really did, but he felt a strange heaviness in his stomach, knowing he probably wasn’t going to see them anymore, knowing, too, that come Monday morning he’d have no reason to get up at six thirty and shave.

This is it, he thought, packing up his stuff.

It was over.

He didn’t really have much to bring along with him: a ceramic mug with the H & Co logo on it, a paperweight in the shape of a silver turtle that he’d bought for himself a few months ago, a small box of paperclips and a dog-eared paperback novel he never got to finish in his six months at the firm. His contract ended today, on the thirtieth, and now he was leaving which meant he was out of Tris’s life for good.

He caught Tris on his way to the lobby, finishing up a call and pocketing his phone. He looked up, startled, and stared at the box under Jonas’ arm.

“I’d forgotten you were leaving today,” he said, like he hadn’t known, days before, that Edith was coming back. She’d shown up a day early with pictures of her newborn baby, a healthy pudgy pink little thing with downy brown hair. Jonas was even handed a photo.

“No words of wisdom?” Jonas asked, raising his eyes. He wanted to hear it though he wasn’t sure what 
it
 was exactly. Were they over even though they were never officially together? Was Tris going to beg for him to stay?

“My plane leaves in an hour,” Tris said, as if that were excuse enough.

“St. Tropez, right?”

Tris nodded, pressing his lips together. He looked lost under the stark lighting, eyes wide, in his best pinstriped suit. But lost or not, he offered Jonas no words of comfort, or anything to buoy Jonas through the torturous wait of expecting something resembling closure.

Jonas turned on his heel.

“Have fun,” he told Tris and then exited the lobby.

“Jonas!” Tris called out.

Jonas stopped, turned, waited for a beat. Nothing. “What?” he said.

Tris smiled at him, his business smile, his it-was-nice-knowing-you-smile. Jonas had learned a few things during his brief tenure as Tris’s secretary, and frankly, that was a goodbye-we’re-probably-never-seeing-each-other-again smile if he ever saw one. He knew that look.

“Good luck,” Tris told him.

“Thanks,” Jonas said. “You too.”

He meant it.

Then he left for good before things took a turn for the dramatic and flagged a cab home. Jonas’ shoulders slumped, and he sighed the second he slid into the gummy backseat, unclipping his tie and freeing his throat, finally, after twenty-four long weeks. He turned off his phone and ran a hand through his hair.

It was over.

Great.

It was done.

---

Life went on the way it often did.

Jonas went job hunting in the first two weeks of the new year, penciling ads for real estate agents and telemarketers, going in for job interviews and beginning that whole cycle of waiting for call backs and eating junk food in front of the TV while he waited.

He gave up before the month was over and started growing out his hair again.

“I should just work at McDonalds,” Jonas said when he went to Luke’s for breakfast. “But even those jobs are competitive these days.”

Luke rolled his eyes, jabbing a fork in Jonas’ direction.”You’re not eighteen anymore; you can’t work at McDonald’s. And I didn’t pay for your education just so you could waste it flipping burgers for minimum wage. If you want to ruin your life, at least wait until I’m dead.”

Jonas laughed.

Luke was right though, he needed to aim a little higher. Truthfully, he couldn’t summon the energy to do anything these days as he was still reeling from the fact that Tris hadn’t even bothered to call him just to see how he was doing, even if it were just to check if Jonas were still alive.