Chapter 2

Elena says, “Oliver’s dad was in an accident. He’s in the hospital. His mom is a wreck and we need to be there.”

I hug her, “Pass this hug on to Oliver for me. Tell him I’ll sing a song for him and his family.” They know I don’t do “thoughts and prayers”. That’s never been my thing.

She nods, “Oliver is booking a flight to Phoenix for us as we speak. We need to leave tonight.” She glances from me to Ramon then back at me. “We couldn’t just abandon Ramon. This is his first time in Chicago. He knows no one and nothing about the city. His conference starts Monday morning, so flying all the way back to Portland on Saturday night makes no sense. You have an extra bedroom here. He just needs a place to sleep and some company for the next thirty-six hours. A Lyft is picking him up Monday morning.”

A suspicious mind might wonder. This seems like an awfully big coincidence. But the concern on her face appears to be genuine. This isn’t the time to challenge or interrogate her. She needs to get back to Oliver so they can get to his parents.

I tell her, “Of course. Text me when you land safely and let me know how it’s going.”

And with that, she’s gone. And Ramon is here. Remembering that I am a human being in society, I turn to Ramon and shake his hand. It feels warm, smooth and strong. As surprising and awkward as this is for me, it must be doubly so for him. I dumbly introduce myself as Felix. Duh. Who else would I be? He laughs politely.

“Dinner!” I say as if one word makes a complete sentence. “We need food.” Now I sound like a caveman.

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me. We could order in and I could treat you to pizza or we could use the restaurant reservation Elena made. I’m the intruder here.”

“You’re not an intruder. You’re my guest.” He hasn’t taken his jacket off yet so I can’t see his whole build, but from what I can tell, he seems to be nicely toned. It occurs to me that Ramon is the first man besides Oliver (and me) to enter my apartment in two years. I was both physically and mentally prepared to go out tonight, so why not? I slip on my own jacket and wiggle my feet into shoes. I tell him with more confidence than I feel, “Let’s use that reservation.”

Over dinner we get to know each other. I attempt to downplay how tragic the last two years of my life have been, but I do offer him a Cliff’s Notes version of my time with Carter and the breakup. It’s part of who I am. He listens with genuine interest that makes me think that maybe Elena didn’t already give him the rundown on her sad best friend Felix. That would be unlike her. Though, she really hasn’t told me anything about Ramon either. Just that he’s her cousin and lives in Portland.

I find that I enjoy his biography tremendously. He tells me about growing up as the middle of three boys in St. Louis. About feeling lost in the middle. About coming out to his parents and brothers at the age of sixteen and about how he was glad to escape to Oregon after college when the opportunity presented itself. Not that his family has been that bad, but they haven’t been that great either. And neither was the town. Or at least his part of it.

“So, I’m dying to hear the story of you and Elena. I’ve known her for most of our lives but I only first heard of you this afternoon.”

“The truth is, we’re not actually related. Not really.” He sips his wine, “I have an uncle who decades ago married Elena’s aunt. We’ve been told by our parents that we’re some kind of cousins, but there’s no blood between us. Second and third cousins are confusing enough, but start adding in once or twice removed and I’m totally lost. In college I avoided a class on genealogy to protect my GPA.”

“We only saw each other a couple times as kids – a family reunion and a funeral. Then when we were twenty, we were at the same wedding and really met each other for the first time. Neither of us really liked the family member whose wedding it was and we bumped into each other at the bar. We connected right away and we’ve stayed in touch over the phone and online ever since.”

As we continue to talk, he reveals to me that he too went through a rough breakup. His was three years ago. The guy’s name was David. He’s still raw and he hasn’t gotten back out there yet either. His open frankness brings me to open up more about Carter too. We order dessert and I’m glad when he doesn’t order the crème brûlée.

The restaurant is only four blocks away, so on this crisp autumn evening, we decide to walk. The route takes us right past the Sushi restaurant where Carter and I celebrated our ten year anniversary. The night I proposed. Ramon can feel the change in my vibe. Without having to ask, he knows. He says, “I hate sushi.” True or not, he’s sweet for saying that.

Back home, I finally get him out of his jacket to find that I was right. He appears to be nicely toned under his snug-fitting shirt. His jeans are snug too. I look away.

Ironically, the Bulls are playing the Trail Blazers tonight and I put on the second half of the game. We playfully trash talk each other’s team as we share the couch. At one point I notice goosebumps on his arms and I realize that it is chilly in here. I pull down the blanket that is draped over the back of the couch and spread it over both of us. Ramon slips out of his shoes and tucks his feet under him. His eyes drift closed then open repeatedly and I gradually reduce the volume on the TV. The guy did travel two thirds of the way across the country today. I’d be falling asleep too.

It’s not long before he’s out cold. His body has sunk down into a less upright position as he unconsciously snuggles into the warmth of the blanket. As his body shifts, his feet wander closer to me, eventually making contact with my thigh. If I shift or get up, I’ll wake him. I let his toes grip at my leg. His feet are warm and they make me flush. They also make my crotch tighten inside of my skinny jeans. I realize that the basketball game is over and I have no idea who even won. I click off the TV. Between the warmth of the blanket, the body of a sexy man so close to me and the soothing sound of Ramon’s calm breathing, I fall asleep too.

I bolt upright, wide awake. Somehow, I’m holding onto Ramon’s socked foot. Ramon is awake now too and he’s in distress. He’s shaking, sweating and breathless. I recognize the symptoms. I release his foot, cast off the blanket, take his hands in mine and force eye contact. I ask him, “What do you need?”

He shakes his head with bulging eyes.

I squeeze his hands, “You’re okay. It’ll pass soon. I’m not going anywhere. What can I do?”

His teary eyes look down at our hands. All he can do is nod. I take that to mean just stay right here with him. I tell him again, “I’m not going anywhere.” He squeezes my hands back as his breathing slowly normalizes. When he finally lets go, I hop up and grab a cold bottle of water out of the fridge. I also bring him a washcloth, cool and damp. The whole incident lasted about five minutes.

He mops his sweaty forehead and takes a long pull on his water. “I’m so sorry.”

I wave off the apology, “How often do you have panic attacks?”

He winces, “Periodically over the last three years.”

I guess he was in with David as deeply as I was with Carter. Maybe even deeper. “What brought it on?” I ask.

He palms his face, “I was asleep when I felt your hand on my foot. That’s something that David used to do. Whenever we’d watch TV, he’d pick up my foot and give me a massage. When it happened in my sleep, I forgot where I was and who I was with. Or, should I say, who I wasn’t with.”

“Ramon, it was my fault. I fell asleep too and my hand wandered. I’m sorry.” I feel terrible. My own panic attacks are finally under control and now I’ve taken to triggering them in others. This is why I need to stay in my apartment and out of people’s lives.

He can see how upset I am. “Hey, Felix. It’s okay. My foot wandered first. You did nothing wrong.”

I stand. “It’s late.” I can’t look at him anymore. I point out the spare bedroom and the bathroom. I show him where the towels are and tell him to use whatever he needs. Still avoiding his eyes, I turn to move past him but he catches me by the elbow.

“Felix. I’m okay.” He turns me around and his touch is electric. He leans closer and I can feel his body heat. I can smell his scent. He smells like soap and cedar and man. “You’re okay. We’re both okay.” Our noses are only two inches apart and an almost forgotten energy roils beneath my skin.

I meet his eye again. I nod. He releases my elbow and I imagine him pushing me against the wall, entangling his fingers in my hair and shoving his tongue down my throat. I start to stiffen in my jeans again. Over the last two years, I had begun to think that my dick was broken. It had gone dormant. This evening has woken it up. But all I do is say, “Goodnight, Ramon.” I go into my bedroom, close my door and keep it closed for the next eight hours.

I feel movement at the foot of my bed. A hand wraps around my foot and I tense. A wet, slippery tongue drags up the arch of my other foot and I attempt to yank it away, but I’m frozen in place. I also become aware that I am completely naked under my blanket. My feet are abandoned as two hands and one tongue make their way up my legs, up my thighs, they bypass my raging hardon and lavish attention on my neck. Tingles roll over my whole body. My armpits get licked, my nipples get nipped and all I can do is lie still and enjoy it. When those hands and tongue find my lower abdomen, I scream but no sound comes out. I silently and breathlessly laugh as my tummy gets taken advantage of. And then everything stills for a moment. My cock, twitching and dripping in precum, waits in anticipation. My visitor neither neglects nor disappoints.

I get grabbed, yanked, licked, sucked, squeezed, stroked, tugged and swallowed. I’ve never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable or so turned on in my thirty two year life. The attack is relentless. I want to hold out. I try to stave it off. He won’t quit. He won’t even slow down. Since I can’t move, scream or even talk, there’s nothing I can do. I decide to stop my mental fight. I might as well let it happen and enjoy it. The hands once again give way to the mouth and I close my eyes and let him take all of me in. He is so tight all around me. He slides up to my tip and plunges back down to my base. He repeats this three times and that’s all it takes. A rumble rolls up from my scrotum and…

And I’m awake. It’s been more than two years since I’ve had an erotic dream. And even though it wasn’t real, I’ve made a mess in my boxer briefs. Yeah, my dick works just fine.

Ramon walks out of the guest bedroom at the same time that I walk out of mine. I’m fully dressed in workout clothes for a run and he is… Only wearing a pair of boxers! I can’t help it; my eyes drink him in, rolling up the length of him and back down again. He has the most beautiful stomach I’ve ever seen and it’s not because of rock-hard abs or v-shaped muscles. No. It’s from the same smooth olive skin that covers the rest of him. I crave touching it. The only body hair visible runs from a perfectly round innie belly button and trails southward, disappearing beneath the waistband of his shiny black Nike briefs. The contours of his toned biceps, shoulders and pecs aren’t so bad either. He is not at all self-conscious or even shy. I wouldn’t be either if I looked like him.

I ask, “Wanna join me in a run?”

He smiles, “On the streets of downtown?”

“I’m a member at the gym across the street. I can bring a guest. If you’re not a runner, they have all kinds of stuff.” His body tells me that he knows his way around a gym.

“The gym is not Elena’s scene. I didn’t bring a set of workout clothes.”

I hold up a finger and duck back into my room, reemerging shortly with a second set of clothes, socks and my spare pair of Nikes. I say, “I’ve worn these a few times, but they’re close to new. Is that gross? The thought of wearing another man’s shoes?”

He laughs, “Gross is the last word that comes to mind when I think of sharing with you.”

I don’t know why, but I blush. “Despite having molested your foot last night—”

He cuts me off with a snort, “Felix! We settled this already. It was mutual unconscious wandering. I’m good.”

“-I don’t know what size you are,” I finish.

“I’m a size 10,” he says.

“Will a 10.5 work? I don’t want you to get blisters.”

He takes the whole stack from me. “They’ll be perfect.” He pauses and frowns, “Unless any of this was left behind by Carter. I don’t want to wear an asshole’s shit.”

I already like Ramon, but that comment makes me like him even more. “I can assure you everything that was solely Carter’s was dealt with and discarded two years ago by Elena.”

He nods, “That sounds like her.”

My slightly too big shoes do not give Ramon blisters because he doesn’t run. I have a perfect view of him from my treadmill as he works out on all of the weightlifting machines. I am mesmerized by his form as he reaches, stretches, bends, twists and lifts right in front of me. When he jumps up and grabs the crossbar, I get treated to flash of that perfect stomach with each pull-up he does. That strip of bronze lower abdomen causes another stirring in my shorts. By the sixth pull-up, the belly button begins peeking out, like it’s teasing me on purpose.