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"Do I look like one of the servers to you, asshole?" The question comes from a familiar voice. I look up and see him. He seems taller and stronger than usual, if that is even possible. His brown eyes hang warmly above me and he is smiling. It is like staring up at a strong oak tree.
"Wh-wh-what are you doing here?"
"I've been looking all over for you. You haven't been answering my recent calls or texts. Hell, you even dodge me on the field. I knew I'd have to find you."
I watch as Colt approaches the table. I feel almost embarrassed being caught off guard like this. What's the point of him meeting me here like this?
"Have a seat." I find myself inviting him into my booth even though I feel like being as far away as possible from him right now. I still need time to gather my thoughts. He thanks me and eagerly scoots in.
"So you came all the way to Black and Bull to find me? How did you know I was here?"
"Just a hunch," Colt says. Damn it. Colt has known me longer than most people. His ability to read my mind is uncanny. If anyone can find me in this city, it is definitely him. I notice that he seems more subdued. Not the gregarious loud mouth I had grown accustomed to. The way he silently looks into my eyes is making me uncomfortable, and I don't know what to say. Since it is a small booth, we are sitting in close proximity to each other. I can feel his broad, muscular shoulder brushing up against mine, and my cock twitches.
Great, not now, I think to myself. I hear the deep, harsh words of my father repeat themselves in my mind, What are you, a faggot? I feel so confused. There is no doubt that I am attracted to Colt. All these years of intense rivalry and hatred are starting to make sense to me. The opposite of love is not hate; it's indifference. I never hated Colt. I can see now that the identity I am so scared to embrace is true. I have desired him all along. I've been attracted to him all these years and was too afraid to admit it, and he must have felt the same thing. But that's not the whole picture. The other side of this perfect equation is Julianna. I love her, but now I know that I love them both.
"Let me guess, you were going to order the Bleu Cheese Burger," he chides.
"Fuck off, you always think you have me pegged," I say jokingly.
He gives me a playful punch on my arm and I laugh, brushing the hair back from my forehead. Now this is the Colt I know, which is a comforting feeling. I feel like I am treading back on familiar territory.
"It's because I do. Just admit it. When have I ever been wrong?" He laughs, and opens the menu from the table.
"Plenty of times! In fact, remember when you—"
"Now fucking stop right there. I'm going to have to tell you to go fuck yourself," Colt laughs.
Despite everything, I laugh back.
For a moment, I forget everything and look at Colt. I’m supposed to hate this man. But that hatred seems to be a mask - hiding something greater.
He reaches over and I take his hand. I lean over the table in the booth before I realize what I’m doing. Is his face coming closer?
Our faces are inches apart.
I could kiss him right now.
I can feel his breath. I’ve wanted this for a long time. I squeeze his hand and my eyes droop, preparing to kiss him.
Just then, the figure of a blonde woman walking across the pub catches both our attention, and our easy banter fades. We do not have to say anything because I know we are both thinking about the same woman: Julianna. The woman at the bar isn’t her, but I realize that she is the force we need in our universe. The person who creates balance to all of the opposing forces in our lives. I wonder if she feels the same way. I have to speak to her.
But I can’t. I shouldn’t even be talking to Colt.
I pull away from Colt’s face and lean back against the booth.
“I…I gotta go,” I say hastily, slapping down some money on the table in case I didn’t pay for anything.
I can see the hurt in Colt’s eyes. “You’re running away, man,” he yells at me as I keep walking. “Your dad isn’t here anymore, Ethan. Hey, are you listening to me, fucker?”
But I’m gone. Into the crisp New York City night. I pull out my phone and call Larry.
“I’m in,” I say to him. “What do I need to do?”
“I’ll be right over,” he says, not caring about the time.
I hang up and decide to walk back to my condo.
By myself. In the loneliest big city in the world.
