Page 15 of Teach Me To Sin

“At this point, I think I can do whatever the hell I want,” I snap. Closing my eyes, I rest my head on my folded-up knee.

“I’m sending Gideon over to pick you up.”

“No, no, no. Nope. Not. No, thank you. Don’t do that.” I know exactly what Gideon will want.

“He’s already on his way.”

“Then cancel him like a shitty Uber.” Just in case Dad doesn’t listen, I head out to the sidewalk and start looking for cabs.

I’m living the dream, I guess. I can do anything I want, because I finally have a purpose in Dad’s life besides fucking up. Except now that I have it, I hate it. I’m going home to swim laps until all I have the strength to do is lie on my face on the tile and think about two dark-haired men, the sky and the earth, with me tangled up in between.

Alek

I thoughtI lost Benji when I left him with Colson. They had such instant chemistry, and I know the lawyer will waste no time digging up and capitalizing on Benji’s fears and doubts. Without a swimmer, I’ll have nothing to fight for.

But I underestimated the wild boy, or maybe he doesn’t have any fears. Late that evening my phone gives a single, short buzz.

Benji: Let’s go fuck up the Olympics.

Stretching out my back, I look around my dimly lit office and try to remember how many hours ago Willow popped her head in and told me she was locking up. As many hours as it takes to pretend that I don’t need to go home and have one of the hardest conversations of my life.

I reread his text, then close my eyes and rest my forehead against the top edge of my phone. Training him won't be an easy path. I should be drafting statements and PR plans. But I just want a few weeks to breathe and savor the clean, unsullied happiness Benji brings, before the world tries to ruin it.

Me: Can you start practice Tuesday night? I’ll bring pizza, but you only get it if you work hard.

He answers instantly.I already hate you.

Remembering our vicious toppings debate the other night, I grin.Anchovies and pineapple, right?

Benji: You fucking wouldn’t. You’re too square to troll someone that hard.

Me: I’d be careful making assumptions.

My goofy grin fades when I close the messaging app to reveal the photo behind it–Maya and me in formalwear at a charity awards banquet two years ago. It’s been my wallpaper for so long that my brain tunes it out. I brush my thumb across our bright, fake smiles, frozen in time. We’ve never fought or hurt each other, but I’m growing more and more sure that we’ve never loved each other, either. We’re like roommates with an exclusivity clause—and there’s a reason that arrangement doesn’t fucking exist.

My head aches as I close my laptop and put everything away. Delaying the inevitable, I change into biking shorts and fumble downstairs to the side fire door. Over the years, I’ve worked out an evening jogging route down cracked streets between rows of warehouses and pallets that smell like fish. The workers have always gone home by the time I get near the shipping docks, with the sun collapsing heavy and hazy behind the cranes.

Normally I take it easy and limber up, but today I pull down my hood and sprint until I can’t breathe and my eyes sting with sweat. I’m trying to find that one moment of oblivion where I’m too tired to do anything but exist in my body, no questions or doubts. It won’t come tonight, not when I have to go home and say goodbye to the person standing between me and the things I’m afraid of.

I take a corner too fast and my shoe slips on the gravel, sending me down hard on my hip. Peeling up the edge of my ripped shorts reveals a wide, oozing scrape. Pain slices through me like a punishment for being a coward. “Shit.” My legs shake with exhaustion as I fold them up and rest my head on my knees. I don'twantto do this, but everything’s different now. Once I walk into the pool on Tuesday with a pizza box in my hand and see Benji’s smile, it will only be a matter of time before I let him have any part of my cracked heart and worn-out body that he wants. I can’t help it, and I respect this woman far too much to cheat on her.

After a long time, I pull myself to my feet and limp back to the car. On the silent drive home, I consider calling Benji, or Victor, or Tate. For one second, even Colson. Anything to not be alone. But this is my mess, and I need to face it.

As soon as I open the door to the colorful, boho condo Maya decorated for us, she switches off the TV and scrambles to her feet. Her lavender maxi dress skims the floor as she hurries over, frowning at my limp. “Are you okay? You said you wanted to talk, but then you worked late. I was worried.”

“I’m sorry.” My hands fumble unsteadily as I set my backpack next to my shoes in the entry.

When I don’t initiate our usual kiss, she pulls back a little and studies me. “I guessed right, didn’t I?” She sounds both sad and not sad at all. “You’re breaking up with me.”

“I…” Hesitantly, I reach out and brush my fingers through her thick hair. Now that we’ve started for real, I feel like I’m in free-fall. The safety net that’s been there to catch me for three years is the very thing I’m cutting away. “That implies you were anything less than perfect, or that you didn’t give me everything you could. I don’t want to say that. By all rights, you should break up with me.”

The corner of her mouth tips up sadly as she catches my hand and holds it between both of hers. “I’ve messed up too, Alek. I held onto you long after I knew we couldn’t work, because you’re the first good man I’ve dated and I was scared to try again.”

I shake my head. “It’s not… It’s just that I think I’m– um…fuck.”

The gentle pressure of her hands calms me. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I understand. I just want you to be happy and to promise me you’ll go get, like, a lot of therapy.” A light flickers in her eyes that I thought had gone out a long time ago. “Shall we make it fair and break up together? One, two, three, go?”

I start to laugh, but my throat constricts, and the sound ends on a shaky breath. Deconstructing three years of life won’t be simple–deciding who gets the condo, dividing up possessions, explaining her absence at nonprofit functions. Coming to terms with my sexuality without a straight relationship to hide behind. If I had thought of all this ten minutes ago, I’m not sure I would have had the willpower to follow through. “Are we sure?”

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