The Coil (13 page)

M
ATTIE
bit his lip against a smile, something inside of him just absolutely
melting
.

“Okay, baby. I’ll be home soon, love you. Put Miss Protrakis back on.”

Mattie waited for Simon to finish up his telephone call and knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was utterly and completely smitten. He didn’t think there was a chance they could become anything more than friends, but then, not a few hours ago, even friendship had seemed impossible. And here they were, going to grab some supper after having shared intimate details that no stranger should be privy to.

“Okay.” Simon smiled, sliding his cell into his pocket. “Where do you want to head?”

“Actually, my place isn’t too far away from here. You could see some of my paintings, and I make a great….” He trailed off, seeing the look of sudden apprehension on Simon’s face. “Or we can totally go down to this little Italian place, cheap as hell and quite clearly not as scary.” He chuckled. “Relax. I know it isn’t in the cards. I wasn’t propositioning you.”

Simon winced and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not that… it
—
it’s just been a while since I’ve been out there, you know? I don’t know when someone’s just being friendly or… not.”

“It’s fine. So… Italian?”

He mulled it over. “You know what? No. No, show me your paintings. And you can feed me.”

“I make awesome ham and cheese omelets.”

“Hell, you should have said. Lead the way.”

“S
O
,
WHAT
do you think?” Mattie called from his miniature kitchen, flipping Simon’s omelet.

“Well, I’m no critic,” Simon called back from the living room that contained no more than a two-seat couch, a coffee table covered in sketch pads, an easel by the window, some stacked-up canvases, and surprisingly, a small rudimentary pen with an open and rather large cage. He’d done a double take when seeing the small rabbit curled up asleep on a cushy-looking pad. “But I’d say you are a very talented artist.”

Mattie grinned and slid the omelet onto a plate as Simon entered the kitchen. “Come get some grub.” He poured more omelet mixture into the small pan and placed Simon’s plate on the circular kitchen table for two. “Go ahead and eat up.”

Simon sat, then quickly reached into his pocket for his cell when he felt it vibrate. Worried that it would be a call from home, he was quick to check the screen, but groaned, seeing his mother’s number. He sent the call to voice mail and tucked the cell back in his pocket.

“Not feeling sociable?”

He shrugged, picking up a fork. “Unknown number.”

“Ah, well then.”

“This looks great, by the way, thanks.”

“No problem. I can make more than sandwiches, you know.”

“Well, that’s for damn sure,” Simon said around a mouthful.

Mattie smiled, seeming pleased, and flipped his own omelet and let it brown for a few seconds, then slid it onto a plate and joined Simon.

“Glad you like it.” He took a mouthful of his own and then frowned. “I think the thermostat is on the blink again. It’s warm as hell in here.”

“You
were
just standing over a stove,” Simon pointed out with a wave of his fork.

“Na, this place always has something on the verge of breaking. I guess I should be grateful to have indoor plumbing. Though even that is communal and down the hall.”

“Really?” Simon asked before he could stop himself, surprised that apartment complexes so outdated still existed.

Mattie just smiled, ducking his head. “I bet your place is real nice, huh?”

Simon thought of his spacious living room with its leather three-piece suite and flat screen TV, his kitchen with dark marble counters and stainless steel appliances, his office, Jamie’s playroom, and his two bathrooms. And he thought that, yes, his place was damn nice, but strangely enough, he felt reluctantly envious of Mattie. He was a young single guy in a single guy’s apartment. Albeit it was kind of bare, and Mattie didn’t seem to…
belong
in it, but to Simon, it seemed to represent some sort of freedom or lost youth.

“I like my house. It’s not too far from here. Baker Street.”

“I think I’ve been by there before, nice neighborhood. Don’t they all have different colored doors?”

Simon smiled. “Yeah, ours is the blue one.”

“Better than this place, right?”

“It’s not bad, but I bet if….” He trailed off, distracted when Mattie put his fork down and pulled his thin sweater over his head, balled it up, and carelessly chucked it into the living area, leaving him in nothing but a wife beater that showcased his gorgeous, slender torso. He looked slim, but still had good-sized biceps, strong-looking shoulders and forearms, a chest that—

“Simon?” Mattie asked, smirking.

Simon felt his face heat up and snapped his gaze away from the Adonis before him and back to his plate. He shook his head minutely. “I
—
I was just saying that….” What had he been saying? “That… um, oh yes! If you were to put some of your work up, maybe, it’d… um….”

“You were totally checking me out.”

“Oh…
pft
, I was just… I was, um… Yes. Yes, I was totally checking you out. My apologies.” Damn it, there was nothing left on his plate to look at.

“Don’t apologize, man. You just made my day. I was starting to think you thought I looked like a gremlin or something.”

“Oh, please, you’re gorgeous and you know it. How could you think that?” Simon laughed and then felt something inside of him soften at how genuinely surprised and pleased Mattie appeared. That, combined with the almost bashful glance away, just about did him in. This guy had to deal with so much ugliness in his life that he had no realistic perception of what it was he actually looked like. “Come on,” Simon urged teasingly, his voice soft. “You have a mirror, don’t you?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I have a shiny toaster.” He made it sound like a question.

Simon smiled, looked down at his empty plate, and gently pushed it away a bit. He shook his head, almost sadly.

“Let me get that.” Mattie took both of their plates to the sink and stayed there, his back turned. “Simon?”

“Yes?”

Mattie turned, wiping his hands dry on a towel and biting his lip. He seemed to force himself to relax his shoulders in what appeared a casual manner. “Come here a sec?”

Feeling unease spike through him, he wiped his hands on his thighs as he stood and walked over to stand next to Mattie. “Everything all right?”

“You like me, right?”

“Yes, yes of course.” He smiled.

Mattie’s smile lit up the room, and with a quick glance to Simon’s mouth, he took a step forward and tilted his head to the side, brushing their lips together. He raised his hand to cradle Simon’s neck, but Simon stopped him, gently easing away.

“Ahm. Mattie…
no,
” he said with a soft shake of his head, feeling like a shit at the brief look of confusion, followed by a flash of hurt and then mortification.

“Shit.” Mattie squeezed his eyes shut a second. “
Shit
, I’m sorry.” He backed up, shoulders hunched and reaching for that dishtowel to twist in his hands. “You don’t… I’m not….” He shook his head, offering a smile that was blatantly masking his discomfiture. “Any chance you can pretend I didn’t just do that?”

Simon was at a loss. Mattie looked humiliated, and
he
had put that look there. “Oh geez, Mattie,” he said softly, “it’s not like… I mean, you’re gorgeous, sweet, and funny, but….” He felt helpless as to how to save the very uncomfortable situation.

Mattie watched him as if waiting for something else to come out of his mouth, some nice, face-saving words, but when nothing did, Mattie looked away. He tossed the dishtowel on the counter and tucked his hands into his back pockets. “But,” he continued for Simon, his voice rough, “I’m a prostitute, so….” His gaze travelled no higher than Simon’s neck, unable to meet his eyes.

“That’s not—” He licked his lips quickly. “That is
not
why.”

“Yes it is, Simon.” He finally met his gaze and offered him a sad smile. “Hey,” he said, all soft-like. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re a jerk or anything. It’s perfectly reasonable.”

“You just caught me off guard. I wasn’t ready.”

“I overstepped. You’ve practically hinted a thousand times you’re not interested.” He lowered his head to hide his heavy frown. “And why would you be?” He laughed, kind of sadly. “I got no business thinking someone so classy and great would ever—” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “Man, would you listen to me?” He forced a laugh. “Could I be acting any more clingy or weird right now?”

Simon stood closer and shook his head. “I don’t think that.”

“I’m sorry. I hope… I hope we can still kinda be friends?” He met his eyes. “I really am sorry. You’re just so… you’re so
nice
.”

He said the word with a sort of sigh that made something inside of Simon hurt. He frowned sadly, and before he could think twice about it, he stepped up to Mattie, his hand hooking around the back of his neck, and pulled him into a firm kiss.

M
ATTIE
sucked in a quick breath, his eyes closing at the last second as his head was held firmly and he was kissed, just as he’d always wanted to be. There was hunger, arousal, and a hint of desperation that sent his heart racing. But there was also something undeniably tender about it. He pressed back, trying to take the lead for a second, but then Simon was pulling away, resting his forehead against Mattie’s, breathing deeply.

Mattie froze, afraid of scaring him away. “Simon? You’re kind of giving me mixed signals here.”

Simon let out a small, breathless laugh and opened his eyes. “Sorry, I… I don’t want you to think it’s just you. You’re so not alone in this. It’s just really,
really
….”

“Complicated?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Because of what I do?” There was no sadness in his voice. He looked cautious, if anything, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Simon pulled back a little but then gently touched Mattie’s elbows. “I won’t lie. That does come into it. But… I’m also older than you, and—”

“
What
? You don’t get to use that as an excuse!”

Simon smiled. “I’m seven years older than you.”

“Seven
shmeven
.”

“The fact that you just said ‘seven shmeven’ only proves my point.” He chuckled affectionately.

“You look me in the eye and tell me that, after everything we’ve talked about tonight, you don’t think I’m mature enough for you.”

Mattie thought he had him there.

“It’s not only that. I can’t….” Simon ground his teeth, sounding frustrated. “I can’t offer you anything. My life isn’t exactly my own, not anymore.”

Mattie raised his hands and touched Simon’s face, stroking down to his shoulders. “You think I don’t understand that?”

“I don’t think you know what it fully entails, no.”

“We don’t have to jump into anything. It’s not like we’re gonna go from one kiss to meeting your folks.”

Simon sighed. “Do you remember what we were saying about—about being casual?”

“Simon, I understand that Jamie comes first with you and always will. And I am well aware that we only
really
met a few days ago. I’m not expecting you to get down on one knee here.”

“And what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What you said, about… about it has to be casual for you too?” he urged gently.

Mattie nodded, running both hands through his hair and then entwining his fingers behind his neck. When he was with a john, he kept it casual. He took himself away in his mind and turned it into something that meant nothing so it wouldn’t mean something shameful. He let his hands fall to his sides, his stare serious.

“I don’t let it affect me, Simon. It just is what it is.” He shrugged helplessly. “That’s all I can think to say. I really do understand if that’s not okay with you.” Hell, how else could he explain prostitution?

Simon looked relieved by Mattie’s response. He started to nod. “Okay, okay.”

Mattie bit his lip against a smile, his hands hesitantly reaching out to Simon’s shoulders. “Yeah?” he whispered. He dared hope Simon understood that what he had to do sometimes meant nothing, and that they could still have something good. That they could take it slow, and develop into something amazing, something lasting. “You’re saying yes?”

“Just… slow and easy?”

Mattie beamed but quickly smothered it and nodded. “Absolutely. Slow and easy. All the time in the world. No rushing.”

“As long as we’re on the same page.”

“How long until you have to head off?”

“Uh….” Simon frowned, glanced at his watch. “Around forty minutes?”

“Will you….” He searched Simon’s eyes, aware that they’d literally
just
said the words “slow and easy.” “You wanna go to bed with me?” he murmured, crowding closer.

Simon gripped Mattie’s waist, the wife beater bunching in his hands. His answer was nothing more than a shuddering breath. “Yes.”

Mattie licked his lower lip. “Then we’re on the same page. Come with me,” he said in a low voice, taking Simon’s hand and beginning to pull him toward the bedroom. He looked back when he felt a slight resistance.

“Slow and easy?” he reiterated.

Something in Mattie’s eyes softened. “I won’t hurt you.”

“No, I….” He squeezed Mattie’s hand. “I mean, truthfully, it’s casual for you?”

In a way, Mattie was pleased that Simon wanted to know flat out that the hooking meant nothing to him. He found it encouraging. He squeezed Simon’s hand back. “I promise you, it’s water off a duck’s back for me.”

M
ATTIE
’
S
casual approach toward relationships was allowing Simon to dare hope that Mattie understood it could never be anything but friendly,
casual
sex. And it had been so
long
. Satisfied that there would be no hurt feelings or misunderstanding—that there would be no reading into things that could never take root—he gave a nervous smile. “Then lead away.”