Chapter 2

I slip into my VANS, “I’ll get the key.”

We can hear the cat meowing from the other side of the door. It must be his dinnertime if not past. Michael drops his bag on the dining table and refills the hangry animal’s food bowl to stop what had turned into screaming. The sudden silence is deafening. He glances around, points and picks up the set of keys left on the counter right where he said they’d be.

“Thanks for saving the cat from imminent starvation,” he grins at me.

His grin makes me blush. I’ve never let myself think about how good looking of a dude Jeff really is because he’s married to Natalie. But now, with his mirror image standing before me, I must admit…he’s fucking hot.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around throughout the week.”

Unlikely. Unless he keeps locking himself out and subsequently knocking on my door to keep the cat from starving to death. I just nod politely and turn to leave.

I stop and turn back.

“I don’t know anyone on this side of town. Do you have plans tonight? Are you free to hang out? At the very least, I owe you dinner for coming to my rescue.”

Tonight was supposed to be one of our Guys’ Nights, but we’ve missed the last several. Despite having been alone for most of a decade before my friendship with Jeff, I’ve been lonely these last few weeks. And Michael seems harmless. Really, really hot and harmless.

“I wouldn’t want you feeling indebted to me.”

He smiles, “No. I like to pay my debts.”

I feel a tingle roll down to my toes. “How about you order a pizza and we eat it at my place. We can find a movie or something to watch. The Reds are playing the Mets tonight if you prefer.”

“The ballgame sounds great. You’ll see me and a pizza in an hour.”

“Don’t forget your keys this time. If I have to come to your rescue again, then you’ll be in my debt again.”

“Maybe I like being rescued. And I enjoy repaying debts. It’s way better than sitting alone across the hall being stared at by a suspicious cat.”

Is he flirting with me? Jeff could have told him that I’m gay. But odds are that he’s not, so why flirt? Is he teasing me? Feeling my cheeks flush again, I ask, “Why is the cat suspicious?”

“He knows I look like his owner but he knows I’m not him. I think he thinks I murdered Jeff and Natalie and I’m stealing their lives.”

I snort. “You give him too much credit.”

“I’m right to be suspicious of him. He might try to kill me in my sleep.”

Two hours later, the pizza is almost gone and the Reds are down big in the third inning. Michael and I hardly notice though because we’ve been interviewing each other and lost in conversation. I’ve been learning more about Jeff’s family and childhood from Michael in one night than Jeff ever told me in a year.

I ask him, “What’s it like having an identical twin?”

“You love it and you hate it.”

“What did you love about it?”

“Your best friend is always with you.”

“What did you hate?”

“When we were kids we were always messing with people. Pretending to be the other one, especially if one of us was in trouble. We would dream of committing crimes and neither of us getting convicted because no one would be able to prove which one of us did it.”

“Do you two ever get mad at each other?”

“Duh. My brother can be an idiot.” His smile fades. “Actually, I’m the one who screwed up the biggest one time and he almost never forgave me. We were eighteen, seniors in high school. I was on the basketball team and he played tennis. They ran opposite seasons. I wasn’t into dating yet, but he was and he had a girlfriend, Emma. Emma came by the house one day when Jeff was at practice and I was home alone. I explained the situation and she asked if she could wait here. I said, sure, and invited her in. I went back to reading my book on the couch. She didn’t take the empty chair in the room, she sat on the couch next to me. Like we are now, except like this.”

He scoots closer to me in demonstration. He slides all the way next to me so our thighs are touching. It feels like my heart stops beating as we sit like this for a moment.

“I moved over as much as I could, like it was my mistake. I even turned and planted my feet on the cushion making a wall between us with my shins.” He demonstrates again by turning me 90 degrees with his hands on my shoulders and he lifts my legs and puts my feet on the couch. He continues, “Then she started to finger-draw on the top of my foot through my sock.” He draws patterns on my foot and I buzz from his touch. My heart stops again.

He says, “I swallowed and said to her, ‘You know my name is Michael, right?’ She thought that was funny. She said she knew exactly who I was. She lifted my left foot and placed it in her lap.”

He lifts my left foot and places it in his lap.

“She began to massage my foot.”

He rubs my foot and my body turns to jelly.

“Suddenly, my sock was ripped off and I was holding onto the couch cushion for dear life as she gently stroked her fingernails up and down my arch. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. Can you imagine?”

I can imagine. I can imagine because exactly that is happening to me right now as he continues to act out the scene in exact detail. And I too am grasping onto the couch cushion for dear life because my suddenly sockless foot is at his complete mercy.

“Then she casted my foot aside.”

“She crawled on top of me.”

He looms overhead, almost no space between us.

“One hand went under my shirt.”

His right hand finds the opening between my shirt and my jeans and explores its way up my side, across my ribs and comes to a rest in my armpit.

“And her tongue went in my ear.”

Instead of taking the full plunge, he grazes my right ear with his stubbly cheek and gives my earlobe a quick nibble. I find myself covered in goosebumps, this time from head to toe. I’m glad I’m wearing jeans instead of sweats because they are helping to conceal my raging erection. Just as I’m wondering what happens next, he unexpectedly eases off of me.

“And then Jeff walked in the door.” He picks my left foot back up, finds my discarded sock and gently (almost tenderly) redressed my foot. “He was crushed. Betrayed by both of the most important people in his life.”

“She was the instigator. You were kind of an innocent victim,” I say, feeling a little like a victim myself right now, though not upset about it. “I mean, if up to you, it wouldn’t have happened at all.”

“True. And that’s why he eventually forgave me, but it took a month.” He shakes his head, “It was worse because I wasn’t even…”

“You mean you weren’t into dating yet? So what. You were eighteen. Emotions and hormones are hard to understand. You let something happen in the heat of the moment.”

“Yeah. That’s not why though. I…” He takes a breath. My sock is back on, but he keeps hold of my foot. “I especially had no business messing around with his girlfriend because it was just a few months before the incident that I… On our eighteenth birthday, I told my twin brother than I’m gay.”

“Not so identical after all.”

Well, unbeknownst to Michael, but very much known to me, his twin brother Jeff is at least bicurious. At least. But that’s not my place to say.

He gives my foot a squeeze and looks at me sheepishly, “Jeff told me…” he trails off.

I have a moment of indignance, “He told you what?”

“He meant no harm. He only knows two gay people in his whole world. It’s like he thinks we’re in the same club or something. He just wanted me to know it.”

“I’m socially challenged.”

I snort for the third time today, “Bullshit. He told you about me because he thought I never would. I’m the one who’s socially challenged. I’m the shut-in. I’m the hermit. Not you.”

Michael looks down at his feet, “Only Jeff truly knows his motivation.”

And that’s when it hits me. “This was all an act. The whole locking yourself out thing was all for show. The key you showed me was probably my apartment key that Jeff keeps. You had his key in your pocket the whole time. This was all a set-up.”

He sighs, “Let’s play Two Truths and a Lie. Lie – Fine. I wasn’t really locked out. Truth – I really don’t know anyone on this side of town and could use a friend to hang out with. Truth – The pizza is long gone, but I’m still here. I’m still here because I genuinely like you, regardless of whatever pretense got the ball rolling.”

I remove my foot from his lap, “I do not need to be taken care of or looked after. I do not need a matchmaker. I am a grown man. I make my own way.”

“I believe you. I’m not judging you. I’m here for my own selfish reasons. I’m here for me.”

“Tell me about your relationship history.”

“I already told you about Jeff’s high school girlfriend.”

I can still feel Michael’s hands on my body as he reenacted those events. It makes me flush, “Yeah.”

“There’s not much else to tell. I mean, I’m not a thirty-three year old virgin. I’ve, you know, been with guys. Just none of them have meant…anything. No real relationships. This is why Jeff told me about you and suggested the whole forgotten key thing. He’s worried about me.” He puts a hand on my knee, “Maybe he’s worried about both of us, but either way, I am his main concern. When he told me about you, it was only good stuff. How you’ve been self-sufficient since the age of eighteen. Your great job and apartment. Your questionable taste in movies and sports teams.”

I snort for the fourth time.

“Yeah, he mentioned that you’re a bit of a recluse, but he really likes you. It’s almost like he’s proud of you. Me? Not so much. He didn’t even tell you that I exist. I was left to spring myself on you.”

And he did spring himself on me. Literally.

He asks me, “What about your history?”

“You won’t tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell. Not only have there been no relationships, but unlike you, I am a–” I trail off.

“A thirty-two year old virgin.”

He doesn’t judge me. He asks, “When’s your birthday?”

“Plenty of time. I said I’m not a thirty-three year old virgin. We have six months to rectify the problem. Not that it’s a problem. Look, I’m here for ten days…” Now he trails off.

He gives my knee a squeeze and I feel a buzz of electricity. But what if I don’t want a “hookup”? I’m not in my twenties anymore. What if I want something more? Something real? I stand and take our plates into my narrow galley kitchen. I set them in the sink and turn around to find that Michael has followed me. There is no way around him. No way out. I feel like a trapped animal. He continues to move toward me. When he runs out of space, he pushes me against the wall. My mouth drops open and he attacks my mouth with his. I’ve never kissed anyone before. I’ve never been kissed before. I let him lead.

It starts out gentle; all lips and nibbles. Soon his tongue crosses the threshold. He licks my lips, licks my teeth then finds my own tongue. As our tongues rub together, things get less gentle. There’s pushing and rubbing and friction and I had no idea that kissing could feel this good. This right. Both of his hands find their way under my shirt and all ten of his fingertips sizzle on my skin. I tremble as he explores the sensitive taught skin above my waistband. And then his hands push my shirt up higher and higher and eventually over my head and off. I am a thin and healthy man, but very little of my 145 pounds is muscle. Standing before him, exposed, I feel scrawny. Embarrassed.