Page 57 of The Barkeep and the Bro

He seemed as stumped as I was. “You just take it one day at a time, I guess.” He picked at something on his shoe, the wheels in his head turning. He was a constant mystery in that way, one I kept trying to unravel from a safe distance. “I’ve been thinking about selling.”

That jolted me from my exhaustion. “Selling Stone’s Throw?”

I couldn’t imagine Mitch not here. It was as if he were going to sell his internal organs.

He exhaled a breath. “Maybe it’s time. I’ve been working here for thirty years, twenty-three years at the helm. Twenty-three years of keeping this little place afloat. Twenty-three years of fighting back against big chains and the next hot place. Twenty-three years of keeping up staff and benefits and payroll.”

“Hasn’t this place been in your family for generations?”

“Two generations. My dad started it because he couldn’t think of anything better to do, and it was a slog when he was around. We had tight months, and I see it now that I’m older, how stressed he was and how much he tried to hide it from us kids.”

I appreciated how open Mitch was being and that he chose to share this with me. It wasn’t often people let others in. So I trod lightly.

“How much have you thought about it?”

“It’s something that’s always in the back of my mind. But it’s been getting louder lately.”

“With the wedding?”

“She’s a grown woman with her own life.” He sat up and groaned, rubbed his back. “Maybe it’s time I got one of mine, too.”

I didn’t know how to respond. This was some real adult shit, the kind that simmered for decades. I was out of my depth, unable to say something meaningful. I didn’t want him to sell, but this wasn’t about me.

“You’re the kind of person who puts a lot of thought into what he does. Whatever you decide, it will be the right choice.”

The corners of his lips curved into a relaxed smile as what I said seemed to resonate. I loved talking with people, but these kinds of conversations, the real real shit, was tough for me. In my family, we didn’t talk about things. We talked around them and fortressed ourselves in small talk.

It was time to leave, but my body refused to move. It had been fully annexed by exhaustion, slumping deeper into the couch. In what seemed instantaneous, my eyes lost their fight and drooped close. When I woke up sometime later, I had wound up nudged against Mitch’s chest, fixed in the crook of his arm, our breaths in sync. It reminded me of lounging on the life-size teddy bear I had in my room growing up, which I totally got rid of before high school.

I wanted to live in this moment forever, enveloped by Mitch’s warmth. His beard rustled the top of my forehead. His body felt so good, the ideal mix of hard and soft. How could I ever go back to sleeping on a mattress when Mitch’s torso seemed molded for me?

Mitch tipped his head down, his beard prickling down my cheek. I looked up at his half-closed eyes, his pink lips.

I sat up, letting my smooth cheek nuzzle against his beard. Closer to his lips. I told myself I was readjusting to get more comfortable. I told myself lies.

And speaking of readjusting, my pants were getting very tight in the crotch area.

I was being a troublemaker, tiptoeing dangerously close to a line I swore I wouldn’t cross. It was the exhaustion that wore me down…and the feeling of being in Mitch’s arms.

I “got more comfortable” and turned my cheek slightly, moving my lips a bit closer to his. His broad chest rose and fell with slumbery breaths, whereas my heart was beating like a madman. His exhales sent chills over my skin.

We were so damn close. I shifted a touch closer, closing a touch more of the gap between our lips. We were fully cheek to cheek.Oh, I fell asleep like this, I could say the next morning.

I was scared and also desperate to keep going. But Mitch was asleep.

Or was he? Because when I glimpsed down, there was one big part of him fully awake. Pressing against his jeans.

I feasted on the sight. But I was a good boy and kept my arms inside the moving vehicle. Even though I wanted to grab that elephant trunk.

I leaned back and tried to let myself enjoy resting cheek-to-cheek. The feeling didn’t last long. Mitch turned his head and pressed his lips to mine.

The kiss was magical. Like Disney magical. His hot breath danced on my tongue. His mouth guided me as he kissed me with more force, lighting off a row of fireworks within my chest. I softly moaned into him.

I grabbed his throbbing dick through his pants. I’d never touched another man’s dick before. It was harder and warmer than expected; the heat burned through the denim. I stroked him over his pants, felt him get rock hard under my touch as he grunted into my mouth. My fingers found his zipper and pulled down.

Our eyes remained closed, our bodies still as if we were both pretending we were still asleep. This kiss was everything, reaching into the deepest part of myself.

And then it was over.

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