Hazard and Somerset, Gregory Ashe [ebook reader with internet browser TXT] 📗

his body on display under a thin t-shirt and tight jeans. “I didn’t forget about that, by the way.”

Hazard stopped at the desk. He set his hands on Somers’s knees and spread them, moving into their vee, and then his hands slid up to Somers’s waist.

“Missouri still allows corporal punishment,” Somers said. “I should—”

Hazard grabbed his hair, pulled him forward, and kissed him.

Somers’s pupils were huge when the kiss broke. He ran his tongue over his teeth before saying, “If the school and parents agree, teachers are allowed to paddle—”

Hazard kissed him again.

“In this case,” Somers whispered when he could speak again, “I think you’ve already learned your lesson.”

“Thank you for doing this.” Hazard held up his hand, ticking things off on his fingers. “You chose places that were significant for our relationship. The parking lot where we made out. The library. I had no idea you were in that reading club, but you were definitely my childhood crush. And a class we had together senior year. I’m surprised you were able to get them to let you use a classroom on a school day.”

Somers nodded slowly and then said, “The new principal is a closet romantic, and the teacher is an old friend. Plus I’m very charming. But, more importantly: wrong, wrong, wrong.”

Hazard blinked. “What?”

“I picked places that I wanted to share with you. Things I wanted you to know.” Somers held up one finger. “Before that parking garage and movie theater went in, do you remember what was there?”

“A Safeway?”

“Close. A Food 4 Less. And one time I was in there because Mikey had dared me to steal some booze, and I saw you and Jeff.”

Hazard’s hands loosened, sliding from Somers’s waist to his thighs.

“I didn’t know you were dating, not then, but I watched you talking, watched you laughing with him. I don’t know if I’d ever seen you laugh before. You were always so serious.” Somers touched Hazard’s face with one hand, and then his touch fell away. “I walked back and forth, watching you guys go up and down each aisle. Listening. It was like I was starving. And jealous, although I couldn’t admit it to myself. Do you remember that?”

Shaking his head, Hazard said, “No.”

“I didn’t think so. It didn’t look like something special. But . . . but I wanted it so bad, and I didn’t know how to even put into words what I wanted.”

“John.”

Somers blinked and tilted his head back so that he was staring at the fluorescent tubes overhead. “And the reading club, well, you were partially right. I only did it that one year. And I did it because I was curious about you. I was too young for what I was feeling to be romantic or sexual, I think, but I knew you were different. And then, a little later, I realized different was dangerous. But there was this window when I had a kind of little-kid crush on you, before I was so afraid of being different.”

“Hey,” Hazard said, stroking Somers’s cheek, his chin, his throat. “Look at me, would you?”

But Somers just blinked, still staring up. “And here, you know, Senior Lit. We were in the same class. And it was after . . . after everything that had happened with Jeff. And for almost all of first semester, you looked like you were one step away from killing yourself. I’d never seen anybody hurt so bad. And I knew we’d done that to you.”

“Stop, John.”

“We—”

“No. We’ve talked about this. You weren’t responsible for what happened to Jeff.”

“I’m just trying to tell you how it felt back then. I’d look at you. Every day I’d look at you, and I wanted to die myself, because of what we’d done. I think that was when things really started to change. I mean, I couldn’t admit it to myself yet. But when I went away to college, I remembered. And I didn’t ever want to be that person again.”

“Fine,” Hazard said, taking Somers’s chin firmly and forcing his head down. Their eyes met; Somers’s were liquid, and when he blinked, tears coursed down his cheeks. “You don’t need to feel guilty about that anymore.”

“I don’t feel guilty. I feel sad about what I lost, acting that way all those years. But I’m crying because I’m happy I’m with you now. And I wanted you to know about those moments. They’re these little slices of time when I loved you, or something like loving you, and I couldn’t tell you, and now I can.”

Hazard kissed him and said, “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, right?” Somers said, dashing at his eyes. “God, do I know how to be a downer or what? And I made you play that stupid game. Sorry. It won’t happen again.” He grinned. “We are going to have to go back to the library, though. I hid your birthday present there. I thought for sure you’d pick Ken Burns as your big-boy crush.”

“Yeah?” Hazard said, sitting on the desk next to Somers, looping an arm around his waist, and grabbing a quiche.

“Yeah, I was sure you’d pick his Civil War documentary.”

Hazard held up the two DVDs he had checked out from the library.

Somers took the copy of Thor: Ragnarok. “We’re definitely watching this. And I’m going to make you apologize for that comment about my arms. For now, though, open that one.”

Hazard opened the multidisc case for The Civil War. A single piece of paper was stashed inside, and Hazard unfolded it between bites of quiche.

“Why are we going to Washington, D.C.?” he asked as he reached for another of the mini quiches.

“The American Film Institute’s documentary film festival is there this year.”

“We can’t afford that.”

“Zip it.”

“John, we can’t—”

“Not another word.”

“The hotel alone—”

Somers guided Hazard’s hand up and forced the quiche into Hazard’s mouth. Hazard glared at him as he chewed.

“Happy birthday,” Somers said.

Hazard swallowed and said, “Thank you.” And then he kissed his fiancé again. And a few more times.

“Easy,” Somers said, a hand on Hazard’s chest.