Only For You Read online

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but no. I would prefer to meet you at—” I paused giving him a chance to fill in the blank.

  “I applaud your caution. Will 9:00 pm at Chez Madeline work for you?”

  “Chez Madeline sounds wonderful, I have always wanted to eat there.”

  When class finished we exchanged numbers and goodbyes with a promise to see each other on Saturday. When I arrived home, Robbie and Sam were cuddled on the couch. I shared the story of my lap dive, despite my embarrassment; it was too funny not to share. When Sam and Robbie finally stopped laughing, I also relayed the news about my date.

  “Finally. I was going to post a profile on one of those dating sites if you didn’t get back in the game soon. It has been over two months since you’ve accepted a date.”

  I worried she would make the connection to the beginning of my friendship with Hunter, which would require an explanation I had no intention of providing.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence Sam. I’ve been busy with school and work. Plus, with the attacks persisting on a weekly basis, I don’t feel comfortable accepting dates from guys I don’t know.”

  “You have a valid point. Josh sounds great, maybe he is the one.”

  Why was it every time a friend found love they tried to recruit you to Team Amour? Was it the appeal of double dating? The phenomena always baffled me.

  “It’s just a date, Sam. Let’s not put the cart before the horse. Josh is great and hot, but it’s a little early to pledge undying love.”

  Robbie decided to join the conversation, “What’s Hunter going to say?”

  “Be cautious and text him when I get home would be my guess.”

  I shrugged, confused by Robbie’s question, but he stared at me as if I had grown a second head. “What?” I was fairly certain I had not grown any additional appendages in the past thirty seconds.

  “Ev, Hunter is not going to be happy about you dating this Josh guy,” Robbie answered as if I was dense.

  “Why would he care?”

  “Because he is your un-boyfriend. The two of you are a couple in every way but name.”

  “Uh, no we aren’t.”

  It was at this point I remembered that I had never clued Robbie into Hunter’s sexual preference. I wanted to shout that Hunter and I were missing another key component of a romantic relationship, a component I could not live without for the rest of my life.

  Instead I said, “He is one of my best friends—nothing more. You’re reading it wrong.”

  Robbie would not drop it, “A man does not spend that much time with a woman if he’s not interested—even if they are friends.”

  “I’m not worried about it. I can guarantee he won’t be bothered that I’m dating Josh. I think Hunter would actually like Josh. If he had been at Krav today he would have laughed till he wet himself.”

  I thought Robbie’s eyes were going to pop out of his head. Picturing the scene, Robbie clearly imagined a different reaction than I had predicted.

  “If you say so,” he finally said, doubtfully.

  Since Hunter had never seen fit to confide in Robbie, I didn’t feel right outing him even if it would eliminate his persistence. I shrugged again, not wanting to repeat myself.

  “Really baby, Ev is right. I understand your confusion, but you have to trust me, it isn’t like that between them.”

  Sam tried to help me out, understanding my predicament. Robbie shook his head as if we were both nuts but let the subject drop.

  I wished them both goodnight and took a shower before climbing into bed. I went to sleep smiling to myself; it was the first time I had been this excited for a date in years.

  Sam and Robbie were unable to attend our weekly Thursday night trip to The Stop, but Hunter and I decided to go, not wanting to break tradition. I had not seen much of him this week as his parents were visiting from Connecticut. We ordered drinks from Griffin and settled into a table with a good view of the stage.

  “How was your family time?”

  “It was great. My mom kept a constant stream of food in front of me; it’s the Italian in her. I visited a couple of dojos with dad. He taught a class which I joined; it was like old times. I even went to the one near campus where you’re taking Krav. I mentioned you and Hanshi Rosati said you were doing exceptionally well for a beginner.”

  “Hanshi was wonderful when I met with him. Don’t rat him out, but he even gave me my uniform for free. You should also tell your dad Sensei Alex is a keeper. I partnered with him the first two classes so he could help me catch up with the other students. He said my previous martial arts instructor was a hack,” I teased.

  “A hack, you say? Alex is talented, but I could still beat him into next week.”

  “That’s the first time I’ve heard you be conceited about your martial arts skills.”

  Hunter averted his eyes, unsure how to respond to my observation. He was usually humble about his abilities; it was a departure from character. I think I had shamed him by pointing it out so I decided to change the subject and alleviate his discomfort by sharing my embarrassing moment of the week.

  “Speaking of class. I had one of my finer moments this week.”

  “Oh really, do tell.”

  “I don’t know, it’s humiliating. You have to promise not to laugh at me.”

  “I can’t promise when I don’t know what you’re going to say. If I make such a promise, I may not be able to keep it knowing the situations you manage to get yourself into. What did you do, kick Sensei in the balls? Did the weight bag knock you out? Wait I know—you were so sweaty when attempting a roundhouse kick you fell on your butt instead?”

  Hunter laughed imagining my many possible snafus.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself at my expense. I wish it were one of those, my catastrophe was worse.”

  “Now you have to tell me.”

  “Not unless you tell me something humiliating first.” I refused to suffer alone.

  “Does it have to be martial-arts related?”

  “Nope. I’m open to anything that caused you to go full-blown tomato red, provided you were over the age of twenty-one when it occurred.”

  “That bad, huh? Okay, give me a minute to think.”

  We both sipped our drinks while Hunter pondered.

  “I got one. Senior year at Columbia I had to take French 101 to fulfill my language credit. I had to pass in order to graduate and I have a mental block where French is involved. Fifty-percent of our grade was based on an oral presentation at the end of the semester. I slaved over this thing for weeks. So, standing before the professor and twenty classmates, I began my presentation. My assigned topic was how I prepare for school each day. I described my morning routine, in my poor interpretation of French, intending to explain that I shave in the shower, but I knew something had gone terribly wrong when half the class began laughing and even the professor was covering her mouth to hide hysterics. After class, I asked the professor what I had said incorrectly, and she suggested I ask the teacher’s assistant. I caught him on his way out, and asked him what the hell I had said. The guy laughed in my face before cluing me in that I had told the whole class I stroke myself in the shower every morning because it left less of a mess than when I do it in the sink. The TA was a male, which I can only presume is why the professor sent me to him.”

  I succumbed to the comicality. I was caught between the hilarity of Hunter’s epic blunder, and the visual he conjured of stroking himself. It didn’t help that he had previously alluded to the fact that he was enormously gifted. I simultaneously turned beat red and choked on my own saliva, as tears poured from my eyes. It was too much, never before had laughter and arousal been so closely tied. When I finally composed myself, Hunter gave me a rueful look.

  “For what it’s worth, I passed the class with a B-, but in the interest of full disclosure, I suspect it was a pity grade. I didn’t deserve more than a C.”

  That started me laughing all o
ver again.

  “I want you to know that you have given me carte blanch to laugh in your face.”

  “Fair enough, it was worth it. It may be a tie for the mortification trophy this evening.”

  I proceeded to explain my faux pas with Josh. Hunter laughed to the point of convulsions when I painted the picture of my literal nosedive. His merriment came to an abrupt halt when I described Josh’s involuntary reaction to my provocative position, which surprised me as I thought it was the cherry on top of my undignified sundae.

  “He did what?” Hunter asked quietly, too quietly.

  “Little Josh rose to greet me.” His stare was unnerving. “What? I thought you would have laughed yourself to the floor by now.”

  “Did you tell Sensei what that pervert did to you?”

  “Did to me? I’m the one who took the kamikaze trip into his groin. He had no control over his reaction.”

  Hunter was furious, “Of course he did. All men over the age of eighteen have learned how to control their arousal at inappropriate or inconvenient times. Do you think I haven’t needed to tame nature when it would have been preferable and far more enjoyable to let my instincts lead me? It’s certainly not easy or convenient, but it’s what any decent guy does.”

  “I’m sorry if Josh doesn’t have your stellar control; it’s not like he had any forewarning, I caught him off guard. Maybe he found me so irresistible that my effect couldn’t be denied.”

  I jested to smooth Hunter’s ruffled feathers, which proved to be a wrong move.

  “You’re convinced Josh is more attracted to you than other men who bothered to exert control of themselves because he didn’t show you that respect? Are you kidding me? You’re out of your damn mind! What you’re saying has no basis in logic, the man disrespected and groped you.” Hunter was past furious, having moved on to postal.

  “He didn’t grope me! You’re completely overreacting. I guess I shouldn’t bother telling you that the silver lining to my humiliation was I got a date out of the catastrophe.”

  It seems I waved a red flag in front of the bull. Hunter was still as a statue, resuming his whispered tone.

  “Wait, I must have misunderstood you. I thought I heard you say you’re going out with this miscreant.”

  “Yes, we’re going out on Saturday. He felt obligated to buy me dinner after what happened.”

  Hunter stared at me wide-eyed, unblinking for what felt like an eternity.

  “What were you thinking?”

  It sounded like the question was directed more to himself than me, but I decided to answer. I knew I was adding jet fuel to an inferno, but I was so annoyed with him at that point I didn’t care.

  “I was thinking he’s cute, funny, nice, and made an uncomfortable situation bearable. I haven’t been on a date in over two months. I’m sexually frustrated, dammit.”

  “You’re going to fuck him?” Hunter roared.

  “I don’t know, maybe. Not on a first date, of course, but if we have a good time, after a few dates, it’s a possibility. What do you expect? I’m human and I haven’t taken a vow of celibacy—BOB, the vibrator, can only be my battery operated boyfriend for so long.”

  Hunter stood up so fast our drinks toppled over. He began to pace in front of our table, visibly agitated as I sat stupefied.

  “Is this an overprotective big brother thing? You’re about to have an epileptic fit because I’m going on a date with a nice guy who is aroused by me, and I may sleep with him in the future. What is the big deal?”

  “I am not your brother!” He snapped, and then muttered to himself, “’What’s the big deal’ she asks me.” He resumed his pacing, trying to regain his composure but failing miserably. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. I can’t—” he trailed off, thought unshared. “There is nothing I can say that will stop you. I just can’t, I have to go.”

  With those parting words, he stormed from the bar without a backward glance.

  I stared at the empty space he left for several minutes before I remembered the drinks, which began to drip into my lap. I scanned the table for napkins but found none. Thankfully, Griffin materialized with a rag and a glass of water.

  “Here you go,” he handed me the water before cleaning the table. I raised a doubtful eyebrow at the water. Griffin read my reticence and explained, “It’s two-fold. First, I’m not sure how much of the drink you consumed before you took to wearing it and, while I’m sure you would love to get out of here, I can’t let you leave until I’m positive you’re sober. Second, it just gives you something to do…you look a bit staggered.”

  I nodded and sipped the water, realizing he was right. I needed something to do with my hands other than punch the wall beside me.

  “How about I keep you company for a little while until I’m sure you’re good to drive. The bar is slow so Jeff will be fine on his own,” Griffin offered kindly.

  “Sure, that sounds like a plan.”

  “You want to tell me what happened?” Griffin asked carefully, as if afraid I may burst into tears.

  “To be honest, I have no clue.”

  “Give it a shot. Maybe I can help you sort it out.”

  So I told him everything, beginning with my lap dive and ending with Hunter’s apoplexy over my date. Griffin never interrupted me, but nodded at key points as if it all made perfect sense. I was glad someone seemed to know what was going on.

  When I finished I sighed with exasperation, “I don’t know what his problem is.”

  “You don’t?” Griffin asked me with surprise.

  “No clue. It seems like every once in a while he does something so out of character, I feel like I don’t even know him.” Again, Griffin nodded as if it all made perfect sense. “Well?”

  “He wants you,” Griffin stated simply, as if that explained everything I had told him.

  “He has me, we’re best friends, and we see each other almost every day.”

  “No, he wants you, as in—he wants you in his bed, on his arm, and in his life. He wants you to be his.”

  Not this again, it was a repeat of my conversation with Robbie. The only difference is Hunter had just lost a little bit of my loyalty with his inexplicable temper tantrum, and I was feeling less inclined to protect his bedmate preferences.

  “No he doesn’t,” I returned vehemently.

  “Yes, he does,” he shot back at me with equal vehemence. Was Griffin reading from Robbie’s script?

  “I assure you, he does not.”

  “And why, pray tell, is that?”

  “Because he’s gay,” I finally let the secret out, and felt instant relief.

  “Gay? Hunter? No, Ev, that guy is most not gay. Trust me.”

  Griffin sounded so sure, he almost convinced me.

  “No, he is. Not all gay men fit into some contrived mold.”

  “True, nevertheless that man is most definitely not gay. He prefers women, and the woman he wants—desperately—is you.”

  “That makes no sense, Griff…can I call you Griff? He’s my best friend. We have been hanging out nearly every day for over two months. If he wanted me, he could have made a move at any time.”

  “I don’t know why he hasn’t tried to close the deal, but he definitely wants you. I see you both here on Thursdays. He watches you like a hawk, follows your every move. The way he looks at you when he doesn’t think anyone is watching is filled with longing. I’ll admit I was surprised nothing had transpired yet. I figured you weren’t into him, and he was taking what he could get. Do you want him?”

  I pretended to think about my answer when every cell in my body screamed “hell yes!”

  “Yes, I’m attracted to him,” I answered casually.

  Griffin chuckled, “I see how you watch him when he isn’t looking, Ev. I see the same desperate longing in your eyes. Did he actually tell you he was gay?”

  “No, it was the sum of several observations that led to my conclusion.”

  “Now who’s stereot
yping?” Griffin repeated my reprimand.

  “I’m so confused.”

  “My best guess is he wants you, but he doesn’t want to want you.”

  Well, that was disheartening. How could I have thought he was gay? I’m not a stupid woman, but the answer was simple—his being gay was more palatable than whatever reason he had for not wanting to date me. Besides, if he was gay I could still be friends with him despite my attraction.

  Why would he reject the prospect of a relationship with me? Even Robbie called him my un-boyfriend. We had a meaningful relationship, one that omitted romance or sex, but was completely fulfilling in every other way. Was that it, did he not find me stimulating? No, Griffin said he had seen Hunter’s desire for me and I sensed it on occasion. When we danced…when I almost kissed him.

  If he sought my friendship and was enticed by me, why would he not date me? Perhaps he saw no romantic future between us; I could envision him choosing amity in lieu of a fling. Unfortunately, my appraisal of our romantic potential differed drastically. I believed in our potential, an enduring devotion. What convinced Hunter we were unsuitable? Should I ask him? No, that was too pathetic. If he had resolved not to pursue such intimacy, I wouldn’t demand justification with the intent to persuade him otherwise. I would continue to want what he refused to give, over time becoming resentful, which would inevitably suffocate our friendship. Crestfallen, I admitted our friendship was doomed. I couldn’t stifle my now acknowledged longing, and I couldn’t engender his affection. The only consolation, our condemned relationship and my steadfast yearnings presented a salacious opportunity. If I couldn’t have Hunter for life and I was destined to lose him as my best friend, then I could enjoy his company for a time to our mutual benefit. I did tell him I was sexually frustrated.

  There was my new game plan. I would seduce Hunter—partake of some delicious, sweaty, guilt free romps, and then we would part ways amicably. I would be devastated but that was inevitable now. If I was destined for heartbreak, I might as well enjoy the ride getting there. Buoyed by my decision, I started to feel a bit better and smiled to myself. Hunter and I had always enjoyed the game of tormenting one another. That game just got a whole lot more interesting, and I planned to play dirty.