Page 14 of The One Decent Thing

He winced. “That’s not exactly a high bar to clear.” It came out in a deep, sheepish rumble that I could almost feel as well as hear.

“I think you’ve made up for it since then,” I said gently. Because it was starting to be clear to me that Aidan might be physically a big, muscular brute, but emotionally…yeah, he was a big marshmallow. And he’d been through a lot. People looked at me and assumed I was weak, because I was just a teeny-weeny bit on the effeminate side, and thin, and had floppy hair, and wore tight clothes in bright colors. I hated that. I mean, maybe I was weak in some ways. But if I wasthatweak, then I’d have caved to the pressure from my parents and from the assholes I went to school with and tried to be something else, right? And here I was doing the same thing to Aidan, only in reverse: assuming he was so tough because that was how he looked.

And yeah, same thing. He probably was pretty tough, tougher than me in a lot of ways. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried, and confused, and lost, and vulnerable.

It was like when you went to a zoo and realized that the animals were as wary of you as you were of them. A tiger, or Aidan, being afraid ofmesounded impossible, and yet here we were.

I tried again, because he was just staring at me. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. But you used to make fun of my clothes a lot, you know? So it pressed my buttons.”

There was a long pause. “You’re studying particle physics? You found out yet if atoms can be gay? Because…” He gestured at my shirt. “You know, that’s kind of misleading, otherwise.”

I cracked up. Jesus, if he’d put his sense of humor to use like this a few years back, maybe we would’ve been friends. At least, I would’ve wanted to be.

“How much do you know about what gay men do, you know, in bed?”

Aidan’s eyebrows made a really good effort at disappearing into his hairline. “I — what?”

“It’s relevant, I swear!”

“Uh-huh.”

He clearly wasn’t convinced. Why, why did I always do this to myself, launch into some boring, stupid science thing that nobody in the world cared about? In the most awkward way possible?What gay men do in bed?As an intro to something about physics? This was why I didn’t get laid. This, right here.

Well, and the panic attacks. But also this.

My cheeks felt hotter than a fusion reaction, but now I had to go on. “Because there are these particles called quarks. Some of them make up protons and neutrons, you know, which are inside atoms…um, you know what atoms are, right?” Oh, crap. That was so condescending.

“I don’t know, Sebastian,” he said. “Maybe you should go a little slower.”

I winced. “Sorry? Um. Sorry. But, inside protons and neutrons, there are these particles called quarks. There are different kinds, and the ones in the prot—”

Aidan was smiling now, a little crookedly, but smiling all the same, his eyes warm. God, he was so much nicer than I’d ever imagined, putting up with this from me. “I swear, if you say protons and neutrons one more time, I’ll take your coffee.”

I clutched my cup a little more tightly. “Up and down quarks are in the…ones I just mentioned. But there are also top and bottom quarks,” I said in a rush. There was a short silence. Dammit. “You know. Like, the guy who, um, does the —”

“Please stop! Seriously, stop right there.” Aidan was shaking his head, and I thought he was trying not to laugh. Or maybe cry, because I was so pathetic and he felt bad for me. “I know what a top and bottom are. Who the fuck named those — quarks?” I nodded. “Seriously? How did that get by the, I don’t know, the Nobel committee or whoever decides on this shit?”

I bit my lip before I could launch into an explanation of who decided on that shit. It wasn’t the Nobel committee, that was for sure. “It was a whole team of physicists.”

“A whole team of physicists with really dirty minds, maybe.” Aidan took a swig of his own coffee, draining his mug, and I followed suit. “So do the top and bottom quark fuck, or what?” he asked, his tone completely matter-of-fact.

I lost it. The coffee went down the wrong pipe, and I choked, coughed, and waved him off when he took a step toward me. If he started patting me on the back after I’d spewed all that embarrassing nonsense about gay quarks, that’d be it. I’d have to run away and never speak to him again.

“I don’t know,” I managed around another cough. “Maybe I should write a research proposal for that and see what my professor says.”

Aidan grinned at me, his toffee-brown eyes sparkling. It was so unfair that he could be that handsome. “Go for it. Could be the discovery of the century. I mean, I’d read about that, if it was inScientific American, or whatever.” The grin faded. “And I’m sorry, seriously. About your shirt. I couldn’t read what it said, and I was curious. I forgot for a minute what an asshole I used to be to you about your clothes.”

I was about to automatically tell him it was fine, but then I flashed back to the night before, how he’d been walking out the door and had folded as soon as I made it about me, instead of about him. About my need to make up for what had happened, instead of about his need for a place to stay.

That had been accidental manipulation. I’d really meant everything I said. And maybe doing it on purpose was a sucky way to act, but oh my God. Those jeans. Any means were justified if they resulted in getting rid of those jeans.

And putting him in another pair, Seb, get your mind out of the gutter.

“Make it up to me,” I said firmly. “Let’s go shopping. Your penance for making fun of me for my clothes is going to be letting me pick outyourclothes. And you have to wear whatever I choose for you.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then stared down at the ground, fidgeting with his empty coffee mug. “I was actually going to ask you if you knew where a thrift store was,” he said. “And if you minded giving me a ride. Or helping me figure out where the bus runs, or something? Unless you have a paper phone book in the house.”

“So what, you aren’t going to let me shop for you?”

---