Page 25 of Touch of Innocence
TWELVE
Everything was nice and easy with Sam. How strange that their relationship had started off so strained. Gunner had made his assumptions about Sam, and doubtless, Sam had done the same, and yet now as they both relaxed, Gunner could almost hear the audibleclickbetween them.
A few days ago, maybe even yesterday, Gunner would have ignored the question. Or outright told Sam to shut up, if necessary. Gunner kept his secrets, played his cards close to his chest. Didn’t trust people all that easily, and that, he’d discovered, was a good thing.
But almost against his will, or at least without him noticing, Sam had gotten to Gunner. He’d wormed his way, one snarky comment at a time, into Gunner’s heart. Or near enough that it felt like a threat, the promise of intimacy which could never play out.
Maybe Sam was right. Maybe it was time for him to know just how hopeless this relationship was before they got any closer and before it started to feel any more right to sway together in this man’s arms and think about maybe even having a future together.
“My ex,” Gunner spoke slowly, but just as he started to speak, the song changed into a much louder, faster tune, pulsing around them and robbing Gunner of his ability to hear even his own voice.
It would have been easy just to let it go. To take it as a sign that he was moving too fast with this. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to take that chance, though, so he hooked his arm around Sam’s slender, tight waist and tugged him out of the bar. Somewhat to his surprise, Sam even cooperated with it.
“What about your ex?”
The night outside was sultry and still warm. At least it felt that way to Gunner, who wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the heat of this place. Still, he kept his arm around Sam, and as the door shut, the noise became greatly muted so that they could hear each other again.
“I left him. He didn’t take it well.” Gunner decided to keep things simple. Why bother complicating everything between them? Or he was just scared. What would Sam think if he knew the full truth about him?
“Oh,” Sam commented, as they dropped down onto the steps that led the way up into the bar. This late, the people who were going to come here were already there, so it was just him and Sam, the muffled music, and the cold, twinkling stars.
He’d never seen so many stars.
“Yeah,” Gunner continued, his arm tugging Sam close, wordlessly asking for comfort as he spoke. “He follows me. Tries to … I don’t know.” Only he did know. It just wasn’t something that he wanted to say out loud.
“He wants you back?” Sam asked, and Gunner snorted and shook his head.
“Nah. I think he just doesn’t want anyone else to have me.”
A silence fell between them, one which was almost, but not quite, uncomfortable. Gunner turned to look at Sam, seeing his profile, only even in the shimmering light of the stars he could see there was a struggle, a sadness, in Sam’s eyes. The man was smart. Practically a genius. He knew what Gunner was saying, and more than that, it made him sad to think about.
“Will he find you here?” Sam finally asked, when the silence had stretched on for so long that Gunner was starting to wonder if it would ever break.
“Nah,” Gunner shifted over and rested his cheek on Sam’s shoulder. Sam, somewhat to Gunner’s surprise, allowed it. They both just kept on taking these little baby steps toward each other, and Gunner, at least, kept on expecting Sam to pull away anytime.
Sam didn’t, and neither did Gunner. He couldn’t make himself, even if he knew it might be the wisest course of action.
“I have a job waiting for me in Austin, though,” Gunner spoke up again, almost like he was reminding himself of it. As Gunner watched, Sam opened his mouth, obviously about to say something and Gunner was pretty sure that he didn’t want to hear it, whatever it was.
There had been quite enough sharing and caring, on his part, at least. So before Sam could say whatever he was about to say, Gunner spoke up, interrupting him before he could even start to speak.
“So what about you? Why are you here?”
It was a panicked question, meant as little more than a distraction, but as he said them, Gunner realized that he really was curious. Sam was not only so smart that it sort of staggered Gunner, but he had an almost tangible distaste for everyone and everything in this little town. He was the sort of guy who would do well in a big city, where he could talk to other intellectuals about how superior they were to the rest of the unwashed masses.
Or maybe that wasn’t fair. Still, Sam’s unhappiness was something that surrounded him like a cloud. It came off as rudeness or coldness, but as Gunner got closer to him, he was starting to not fall for that quite as much.
“You mean here? At the bar? Or in Texas?” Sam prompted, and Gunner shrugged. Either, really.
“However you want to take it.”
Gunner would listen to anything, really. Why Sam was so deeply closeted but came to a gay bar often enough that people noticed when he walked in. That was a good question, too.
“I come to the bar because it’s the only bar around, and because my brother works there,” Sam said, his voice tense, like that was a subject that Gunner really didn’t want to get into with him. Gunner held his tongue, sure that there was more to the story, but did it really need to be said? One of the first things he’d noticed about Sam was how closeted he was.
“And why are you still in Texas?” Gunner prompted, and Sam sighed and rubbed at his temples. The poor kid had drunk quite a bit, Gunner had noticed, and it seemed to be catching up to him.
“Because I got kicked out of Harvard.”
