Page 21 of Poolside

Wade chuckled. “Fine. So you played basketball with this crew back at Southeastern?”

As Tommy told Wade about his past life as a college athlete, he kept checking on Chuck and the stranger. Tommy straightened in his seat as they started walking back over towards them.

Tommy sized the man up as Chuck introduced him.Gavin, he thought, unimpressed, as he shook the bearded man’s hand.

Was that what Chuck was into?Gavin wore a gray t-shirt with a plunging V that showed off his ample chest and thick hair. There was a ruggedness about him, like he tinkered with old cars for fun on the weekends, that made Tommy inexplicably self-conscious.

Were his hands too soft? His clothes too boring?

Fuck. He turned his attention back to his beer.

“Are you ready to get out of here?”

Tommy glanced up at Gavin’s question. He couldn’t make out the words Gavin and Chuck exchanged after, his focus pulled to the way their hands tangled together.

“We’re going to get out of here,” Chuck said to the group. “Thanks for coming out tonight. It really does mean a lot.”

Wait, Tommy wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to explain the voice in his headscreamingfor him to drag Chuck out to the dance floor. But it wouldn’t be fair to Chuck, who obviously was moving toward a hook-up, if Tommy asked him to stay.

He tried to smile as Chuck walked away. When David and Sage got up to dance again, he waved off their invitation. Soon it was just him and Wade Johnson at their table.

He watched the dance floor, tracking the sweaty skin and muscles and hard jawlines and bodies of all types pressed together. There was no consistency in how these people came together—each pair was as different in their expression as they could be. There was no type, no set fashion or body or anything.

They looked free.

Tommy glanced back down at his melted drink, and looked up when he felt Wade’s eyes on him. The older man watched him with a knowing smile.

“What?” Tommy asked.

Wade shrugged. “It’s never too late, you know. I lived a whole lifetime before I was ever with a man.”

A nervous, high-pitched laugh fell from Tommy’s mouth. “Oh, I, no.” He shook his head. “Not me.”

“Why not you?”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped himself. He realized he didn’t have a good answer to that.

CHAPTER6

BACK DIMPLES

CHUCK

Chuck had learned early on to time his arrival at Dr. Mahoney’s office so he wouldn’t have to wait on one of the overstuffed couches that crowded the waiting room. It was drizzling out, so he took a moment on the front stoop to brush the water from his hair and shoulders before ducking inside. The door to her private office was already open, and he slipped inside, letting the door click shut behind him before exchanging a warm greeting with his psychiatrist.

“Good to see you, Chuck,” Dr. Mahoney gave him a sincere smile, her teeth bright against the golden brown of her cheeks. She wore her black hair pulled back into a thick ponytail, and favored simple, but professional clothing. “It’s been a while.”

Chuck simply nodded back.

He’d first seen Dr. Mahoney when, two years after graduating from Southeastern, the post-breakup blues in the wake of a three year relationship just hadn’t gone away. He hadn’t known much about dating, but he knew enough to know it wasn’t normal to not be able to get out of bed for a whole month following a breakup. He’d already been seeing a therapist at the time—a depression diagnosis his senior year of college had brought a lot of clarity to what had long been an inexplicable part of his character.

He’d always been warm and happy and everyone’s friend. He was the guy who brought people together. He was the funny one. So there was no explanation for why some days he felt like he was drowning in a heavy, gray fog, like his body was wrapped up in a sopping quilt that never dried.

How could he feel so happy and full when he was also capable of feeling like he was barely clinging to life?

The meds Dr. Mahoney had prescribed saved him. Truly, between the medication and therapy, he’d dragged himself up and built a functional adult life. Sure, there were still lows—lows were a part of life. But, unlike before, it was never bad enough to send him careening off the rails.

Chuck settled into the soft beige chair, rolling his shoulders in an effort to loosen some of the soreness from his early morning training.

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