Public Display of Everything (12 page)

I hate these fucking stories. They're a dime a dozen, yet they'll never stop hurting.

"There was this guy…" Flynn clears his throat and winces.
And so it begins
. There's always "some" guy. "I think I ignored him the first twenty times he tried to talk to me. He was on the wrestling team and extremely popular, you see? I knew he shouldn’t be trusted."

I lean forward and brush a kiss to his knuckles before easing away again. "You fell for it anyway."

I know the feeling.

He nods curtly. "He was very…convincing. It started as friendship. In secret, naturally. He told me a sad tale of an abusive father who would never accept him as gay." He shrugs dejectedly and averts his gaze. "I suppose he was cute, in a way. But for me, it was more a sense of companionship. Someone who was like me." I nod, getting it. "He took it to the next level, and I enjoyed it. I can't deny that. We always met up at my house, and he seemed genuine, albeit imperious and aggressive at times."

My blood runs cold.

No doubt understanding my expression, he's quick to go on. "He didn’t force himself upon me."
Thank God
. "He could just be demanding and selfish. It wasn’t enjoyable anymore, and I wanted to end it. He made me feel uncomfortable."

"What's this asshole's name?" I gotta ask. "You know, one day I might win the lottery and head to Seattle. For the sights, of course." I smirk darkly, furious beyond words. "I've always wanted to see the Space Needle."

Flynn rolls his eyes, but I choose to focus on the miniscule grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Russell. His name is Russell." Well, that explains his comment about not liking Kurt Russell. Or rather, his last name. "Anyway, I ended things with him, and he was indifferent about it." Never a good sign. "Then, a few weeks later, I show up at school with new rumors circulating." Flynn lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Russell made the majority of the student body believe I had stalked him—that I was
obsessed
with him. The rest of the school year was hell. I was mocked and ridiculed—"

"Didn’t you tell anyone?" I ask, my knee bouncing with barely-restrained anger. "Trust me, I know injustice, but the teachers would've done
something
, wouldn’t they?"

"It was humiliating enough as it was," he replies flatly. "I didn’t want my grandparents to know, because it would make it more difficult to put behind me. I didn’t want any more reminders, so I only told Grant."

"Christ, sweetheart." I sigh, remembering Flynn telling me that Grant moved to London a year before Flynn did. Which means, even if he told Grant about all this, Flynn still faced it alone. Grant was halfway around the world. "Did you have any friends left?"

"One," he mutters. "Sarah."

I look down at my plate, processing everything he's said.

"Thanks to Grant, I did get the last laugh, though." Flynn shows a ghost of a smile. "Of course, I didn’t actually
laugh
, but there was certainly some…satisfaction." At my look of curiosity, he continues. "It had already been decided that I was gonna move here after graduation—to get a break from everything back in Seattle. So, when Grant showed up for the ceremony, I was packed and ready to go. The day passed as expected: hats were thrown, symbolic rolls of paper were handed out, etcetera. But afterward, when all the students were surrounded by celebrating parents, Grant walked up to Russell, handed him a paper bag, and told him, 'Some things you left behind in my little brother's bedroom before he broke up with you.' You should've seen Russell's father's face."

"I'm sorry I'll never get the chance to meet Grant." I'm too wound up with anger toward this Russell prick to feel any amusement, but I gotta hand it to Grant. That shit's genius. After publicly humiliating Flynn, that motherfucker had it coming. "So, he left stuff at your house, huh?"

"Russell? Well, only one sweatshirt." Flynn takes a sip of his OJ. "But it had his name on it. I found it when I packed and wanted to throw it away. Grant stopped me. The rest of the clothes in the bag came from a local thrift store."

I nod and fall silent. A glance at the clock tells me we gotta leave in ten minutes, but right now, I honestly don’t give a shit. There's numbness seeping into me, mixing with the remaining anger, and I guess I just feel like doing…nothing in particular. With Flynn.

I'd rather stay here all day and show him over and over how he deserves to be treated.

Unfortunately, I have to be at the restaurant at noon.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all this," I say quietly.

"Me too." He stands up and rounds the small table, coming to a stop next to me. I scoot back my chair a little to welcome him on my lap. "In the long run, though…?" He straddles me and lifts my chin. "I've moved past it—embarrassment notwithstanding—and it brought me to London."

To me
.

I hug him to me and rest my forehead against his collarbone. I breathe him in, reveling. Like many people who have found their significant others after going through misery, I battle with the different factors to get a grip on what I'm feeling.

I can't say I believe in destiny. Or fate. I honestly don’t. I'm a realist. With seven billion people on this planet, I find it hard to think there's only one match for each one of us. But that doesn’t make my feelings toward Flynn any weaker or less meaningful, so that means I gotta let go of the paths we've traveled and focus on where we've ended up—together.

Furthermore, obstacles—the past itself—shape us. We're all a work in progress, and anything can alter us, change our minds, and give us new perspectives. Perhaps Flynn and I are so good for each other because of what we've been through.

"Do you understand now why I was shocked to learn you wanted to be with me out in public?" Flynn asks, weaving his hands through my hair. "Why it matters so much to me?"

I do get it, and the reason I'm adamant about never hiding is because of what I've been through myself, so that sorta proves my point. Our pasts mold us. We learn from history.

"Realistically," Flynn goes on, "I know there are plenty of same-sex couples who are proud to show off their special someones, but…"

Lifting my head, I kiss him. "You don’t have to explain to me. I know how it is. After that motherfucker hurt you, you retreated and doubted everyone. You didn’t think you'd find what others have. You typed in heterosexual in your profile for that very reason. Because it was
easy
."

He stares at me for a lingering moment. "You do know exactly what I'm saying."

I nod. "I'll tell you just how much I understand it when I get home later." I glance at the clock again and sigh, reluctance written all over me.

Flynn catches my expression and grins wryly. "We're going. In fact, we'll take a taxi so we won't be late." I open my mouth to object, to which he silences me with a shut-up kiss. "I don’t complain when you come home with groceries I haven't helped pay for, or when you cook for us, or when you continue to turn this apartment into a real home. We're taking a taxi, okay?"

I nod obediently. "Whatever you say, Huck."

He snorts. "Klutz."

Chapter 11

*

Cory,

It's not about apologizing for me anymore. I simply want to know that you're happy. You deserve it, Cory. I doubt I'll find what you spoke about years ago, but being truthful to myself is enough to keep me content right now. I have so many regrets, but at least my future doesn’t look as bleak as it once did.

I've rented a cottage for me and my sons. It's on the waterside outside of London, and we'll be there for a year come June. I will homeschool Dylan. I'm looking forward to a break from the States, and the boys are excited to travel a bit.

Hope you're well,

Luke

*

Stepping out of the taxi while Flynn pays the fare, I smooth down my black dress pants and make sure there're no stains on my white button-down. For now, the skinny tie is tucked into my pocket.

Tammy will probably get a kick out of my outfit. She usually sees me in holey jeans and beaters and flannels, but I figured since I'm off to work soon, I might as well wear my uniform.

"I didn’t think the pub was open this early." Flynn joins me on the sidewalk.

"It opens at eleven," I confirm. Tammy said ten o'clock so we could have an hour without interruptions. When we get to the door, I give it a knock and link my fingers with Flynn's. "You look hot." I tilt back a little to check him out in those gray slacks. Fuck me, they hug his ass perfectly.

"I look nervous." Flynn fiddles with the collar of his green polo shirt and squints at the mirrored glass in the door. "Tammy frightens me a bit."

"What?" My eyebrows shoot up.

"Yes." He attempts to smooth down his messy hair, failing miserably. It has a life of its own, which is how I love it. "From my observations, I've gathered she can be very rollicking."

I purse my lips to hide my mirth at his choice of words. "You have nothing to worry about." That’s the truth. Tammy's insanely perceptive, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she's already figured out Flynn is my boyfriend. She knows he's my new friend, and all of a sudden I tell her I've met someone special. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.

Hearing noise from inside the pub, I turn just as Tammy unlocks the door and Flynn tightens his grip on my hand.

She takes one look at us, at our hands, then grins impishly at us. "I knew it. I
knew
it!"

She knew it
.

I smirk and tuck my shades into the chest pocket of my shirt, then kiss her cheek. "You gonna let us in?"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on in." She opens the door wider for us. "Another two fine boys off the market for women. Pity."

I chuckle as we walk toward the bar. "I went off the market for women at birth, but whatever."

"Semantics, sugar." Tammy waves that off, and Flynn and I take our seats on two stools. As usual, Tammy's on the other side of the bar, even though she's not on the clock yet. "Now, I want formal introductions."

Of course she does. "Tammy, my boyfriend Flynn. Flynn, my therapist Tammy."

"Therapist." Tammy scoffs at me before smiling at Flynn and extending her hand. "It's good to meet ya, Flynn. Officially. And don’t you worry, I won't check for ID this time."

Flynn smiles politely and shakes her hand. "Nice to meet you, too."

"So, what can I get you boys?" Tammy places her hands on her hips.

"I'll take a Sprite."

"Fanta, please." Flynn makes a move to retrieve his wallet, but Tammy objects.

"Don’t even think about it, hon. I wouldn’t dream of chargin' a guy who can make Cory here dress in real clothes for a change." She winks at me, then shimmies away to get our sodas.

"Because what I usually wear are
pretend
clothes," I mutter.

Flynn tugs at the tie sticking out of my pocket. "Shouldn’t you tell her I have nothing to do with this? It's your work attire."

"Eh. Not my fault she assumes." I cock my head, curious about what Tammy mentioned earlier. "Hey, did you ever date chicks before you realized you were gay?"

"Not really." He snickers and rolls his eyes, seemingly at himself. "Remember Sarah?" I nod. "Yes, she was infatuated with me when we were thirteen, and she asked me out—a group date ordeal at the mall. I didn’t have anything else to do, and I really wanted curly fries, so I accepted." Stellar reason to go on a date. "Afterward, she put my hands on her breasts and kissed me." His telltale blush spreads across his cheeks.

Meanwhile, I'm cracking up.

"It wasn’t funny at all," he insists vehemently. "The kiss was way too French for my liking."

That ends my laughter, and I lean close to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Oh, really? Should I stick to platonic pecks from now on?"

"Well,
no
." He huffs, trying not to be affected. But I'm on to him. "That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it. What about you?" Aiming the spotlight at me now, huh? "Did you ever date girls?"

I shake my head no. "I knew from an early age I was into boys. No reason for me to experiment." I kiss him again, this time more firmly and on the lips.

"You two are just so stinkin' sweet." Tammy bursts our bubble and places our sodas in front of us. "Can I get a picture?"

I'm cool with it. Used to that question, I face Flynn, who isn't. "She likes to take photos, especially when she's out with her friends, and upload them to Instaphoto."

"Lord." Tammy rolls her eyes.

Flynn smirks at me. "I believe it's Insta
gram
."

What-the-fuck-ever. "In the past seven years, I've only used the internet for job-hunting and checking my bank balance." It's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it. "I don’t know all these social media clusterfucks."

"You have a Facebook account," Tammy points out.

"You do?" Flynn is surprised.

I give Tammy a bored look. "That I created in college and haven't checked in ages." I explain further to Flynn. "That shit makes me dizzy. The few times I've logged in, there're a bunch of little red numbers that won't go away." Then I address them both and widen my arms. "And what the hell does it mean when someone
pokes
me? Do I get cyber-fucked?"

In the next five or so minutes, Tammy and Flynn bond over my inability to learn Facebook. They laugh their fucking asses off at my expense. Well, Tammy laughs uncontrollably as she tells Flynn tales of attempts at making me be more social online, and Flynn chuckles and grins and…whatever.

I sip my soda.

"Okay, okay." Tammy giggles at the latest story she's shared and pulls out her phone. "Let me get a picture of you now. Cory, look alive."

"Oh, I'm sorry." I set down my Sprite and grin sarcastically. "I thought you guys were busy making fun of me." I drape an arm around Flynn's shoulders and lean close to whisper in his ear. "I'll get even in the bedroom later."