Page 41 of Unwritten Rules
Inside, Eugenio looks at him, waiting for Zach to do anything other than stand on the cheap rental carpet, overwhelmed by possibility.
“Hey,” Eugenio says, when Zach doesn’t say anything. His voice is quiet, no more than a breath, and he touches Zach’s shoulder, sliding down to hold him at his wrist. Zach’s hand is shaking, his arm, his heartbeat, something that hasn’t happened before, enough to make Eugenio say, “Hey, it’s all right.”
“I want...” Like Zach can put what he wants into words, like he’s not asking for the entire world, the implacable mountains and the fading desert sun. He looks at the door, confirming that it’s shut, the curtains heavy over the windows, the two of them standing there, absent any other witnesses.
“When was the last time you were with someone?” Eugenio asks, and Zach’s about to mumble something about a hookup, one both fleeting and unmemorable, when Eugenio adds, “With someone who cared about you?”
“It’s been a little while.” And it hurts to admit, though less so when Eugenio moves his hand to cover Zach’s.
“I’ve been going about this all wrong,” Eugenio says.
“What does that mean?” Zach’s heart accelerates, wondering if Eugenio will somehow turn him out into the desert night.
“I didn’t think about what it was like for you. Growing up or now. For you not to just be able to date. That it wouldn’t be fair to them either.”
Zach takes a shaking breath. Because he couldn’t and still play, a compromise he made when he was too young to know its cost, one that feels unbearably heavy now. “No, it wouldn’t be.”
Eugenio studies his face, raising his hand and arcing his forefinger over the skin above Zach’s ear, the sensation of it new and shiveringly unfamiliar. “I’m going to kiss you.” Like Zach will deny him.
But he waits for Zach’s nodded assent before bringing their mouths together.
It’s different than it was before, the desperation and surprise he felt when Eugenio kissed him for the first time replaced with a carefulness, the tenderness of his mouth and the abrasion of his stubble. The support of his palm along Zach’s cheek. Zach’s hands slot along his ribs, like they belong there. There’s a surety to it Zach doesn’t remember having, not the unsteady toppling of an avalanche but its reshaped conclusion.
When Zach pulls away, Eugenio’s eyes are shining in the dim light, his hand still held against Zach’s.
“C’mon.” He leads Zach up the underlit hallway, to a room he’s leaving tomorrow, one with his stuff already packed, the closet bare and emptied. The only thing remaining is the bed, covered in a dark gray comforter. Eugenio guides him to it, sitting Zach down, stepping between his legs, and tilting Zach’s face toward his. “Would you have kissed me, out on the porch, before I stopped you?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to. I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I wanted to anyway.”
“You can be pretty determined when it’s something you’re sure of.” He kisses Zach again, a longer kiss, then reaches for the hem of Zach’s shirt before hesitating. “I don’t want this to be just tonight.”
“Oh.” And he hadn’t thought beyond what would happen if he saw Eugenio, if Eugenio didn’t turn him away, or of the season beyond the next twelve hours. “Are you sure?”
Eugenio’s eyebrows draw together, a line between them. “Zach—” and it’s gentle, like something carefully held “—yes, I’m sure.”
“Why?” Zach asks, before he can stop himself.
“Because I like you.” As if it’s not any more complicated than that. He kisses Zach softly at the edge of his mouth before continuing. “And because you spent the past six weeks teaching me something even if it meant putting yourself out of a job. Most people wouldn’t do that.”
“They did tell me I had to.” Something in the way he says it makes Eugenio laugh.
“Here.” Eugenio reaches for his own shirt. He tosses it carelessly behind him, onto one of the already packed suitcases.
Zach does the same, then reaches for the waistband of Eugenio’s pants, Eugenio covering his hand and moving it north, up the muscles on his stomach, slowing him.
“What do you want?” Zach asks.
“Lie back.”
And Zach does, against the comforter, arranging himself so that he’s sprawled across the bed, Eugenio over him, watching him, his gaze lingering at Zach’s face and chest, before lowering his mouth to Zach’s.
It’s slow, Eugenio kissing him and pulling back when Zach tries to deepen the kiss, running his hands over Zach’s sides, murmuring things. He takes one of Zach’s hands, kissing the skin at his wrist and then in the bend of his elbow. “Let me take these off.” He eases down Zach’s pants, his shorts, until they’re both naked, lying in the blue darkness.
“I thought about how you’d look like this,” Eugenio says.
“You’ve seen me naked in the clubhouse.”
Eugenio kisses him high up on his neck, a hand in his hair. “It’s different. Doesn’t it feel different to you?”
