Free Sunset Park by Santino Hassell

had told me in no uncertain terms that there was no way I could understand how he felt. There was no way I could relate to him or find the right thing to say. Swallowing the reality of that statement had burned down my throat, and I always remembered it at times like this.
    What did I know about either of their pasts? Why they felt the way they did about certain things? Not much. Especially Raymond, who didn’t even realize how guarded he could be. If he decided that something wasn’t worth talking about, he cast it away into an abyss with the rest of his undiscussed feelings.
    So I shook my head and tried to figure out the patterns of the scratches so I could make out the name. That was better than looking into his eyes without the courage to argue what he was saying.
    “All right, change the subject.” Raymond grasped my elbow, tugging me a little closer. “And put that lip away. I can’t deal with the pouting.”
    “Too bad. You just shit all over my mood. I was happy to see you until you turned into Debbie Downer.”
    “Yeah, yeah. Fragile little fuck.”
    I scooted even closer, keeping just enough distance so it wasn’t obvious I was craving his proximity. If we were alone, he’d let me lie all over him. It had been that way from the start—since the weekend after we’d visited Michael in rehab. I’d offered to make him dinner at the house and wound up staying later than anticipated. We’d smoked together for the first time, and he’d talked about his mother and Michael. About finding his father dead. I’d hugged him without thinking twice, and at first, he’d been hesitant. So wary of giving me the wrong idea. But loneliness and despair had buckled his tough-guy facade, and he hadn’t pushed me away.
    Just one hug, and he’d melted against me as though it was the first one he’d had in years. All of his armor, his unflappable hard-ass bio ware, had fallen away until he was clutching me as I held him. I’d tried to absorb all the fear and sadness that he’d let me take. Nothing more had happened, but that had been enough. I’d stuck around ever since. And the cuddling became a habit that we never talked about or acknowledged. It was just our thing. And I wanted it now. I think he did too. My hand slid closer to his, our fingers just slightly touching, and he draped his arm against one of the support beams to idly toy with my hair.
    “You came all the way over here because you want to convince me in person to pack your shit.”
    I smirked. “Maybe.”
    “Uh-huh.” Raymond’s thumb dragged along the ridge of my ear. “So you think just me and you are going to get it all done ourselves?”
    “It will take a long time,” I admitted. “But you’ll do a better job. You’ll come up with a plan and be organized and strategic. I just need you to tell me what to do, and then I’ll do it. Can you do that for me? Please?”
    The dirty smile returned. “Claro.”
    I snorted and hit his hand. “Seriously. Will you help me?”
    “What’s in it for me?”
    “My eternal devotion.” Raymond rolled his eyes, but I took the risk of sliding my hand through his entirely. “My undying affection? Come on, Raymond. Please. I don’t want to have to call anyone else. I can’t depend on them.”
    I don’t know what it was about those particular words that got him to crack, but he released a long-suffering sigh and sifted his hand through my hair once before getting to his feet. I found myself eye-level with his crotch, which wasn’t an unpleasant place to be. “Fine. But you owe me.”
    I pulled myself up and brushed the back of my pants. “What will I owe you?”
    “Don’t know,” Raymond said, heading down the stairs of the gazebo. “But I’ll think of something.”
    A desperate part of me wanted that to be an innuendo, but I had a feeling he was just going to demand food. Either way, I’d give him my devotion and affection whether he wanted it or not. Whether he ever admitted to wanting it or