Free Faith and Fidelity by Tere Michaels Page B

“Yeah.”

    * * * *

    They walked across the street, waited for the car in silence. Didn't speak again until they were speeding toward the bridge. Matt cleared his throat.
    “Are you sure about this?”
    Evan let out a small, shaky laugh. “I wish to God I had an answer for you right now. All I know is that... I'm not turning this car around. I'm going home with you... and we'll see what happens from there.”
    “Good.” Matt turned his head and watched the city turn into Staten Island.
    Evan parked on the street. He grabbed his bag from the backseat and followed Matt up the stairs to his apartment. The building was small— a row house with four floors— old, but well kept. They walked all the way to the top, past the sounds of the evening news, the smell of something spicy and rich. At the top of the stairs, Matt unlocked his front door and stepped inside. He paused, flipping on the light, then waited for Evan to follow.
    His look said it all— this was it. No turning back.
    Without hesitation this time, Evan walked through the door.
    “Studio Sweet Studio. Here's the tour. You're standing in the whole apartment. That door's the bathroom. That obviously is what passes for the kitchen. Tour over.” Matt threw his jacket onto the counter that separated the kitchen and the main room. “You want something to drink?”
    Evan stood there dumbly, his coat still on, bag in hand. “I think I need to be a little drunk right now,” he said honestly.
    Matt grunted and went to the fridge. “Throw your stuff anywhere.”

    * * * *

    Considering this, Evan glanced around the big room. It was freshly painted and the hardwood floor polished. And there was absolutely not one stick of furniture— just a mattress in the center of the room, Matt's phone perched next to it on a shoe box.
    “You don't— ”
    “Have any furniture. I did some housecleaning last weekend.”
    “No shit.” He took his coat off and put it over Matt's. The bag he dropped on the floor near the bathroom door.
    “The new stuff is coming tomorrow. I'm sorry... ”
    “Don't worry about it.” Evan didn't have a clue what to do next. He accepted the beer from Matt and stood in the center of the room, avoiding looking at Matt or the mattress.
    Matt kicked his shoes off, threw his tie onto the growing counter pile. He was moving around almost angrily, taking long drags of his beer. He was also avoiding Evan completely, taking the long way around the room just to get to the bathroom.
    Evan decided to follow suit. He got rid of everything but his shirt, pants, and socks, sitting down on the corner of the mattress to drink his beer and watch Matt move around the room.
    “You want something to eat?”
    “No.”
    “Take a shower... ”
    “Matt, please just sit down.”
    Matt stopped, standing a few feet from Evan with his dress shirt open and his eyes wild. “No.”
    “Why not?” Evan was growing weary of these repetitive conversations. “You wanted me here, didn't you?”
    “I want you... here. I want you exactly where you are right now, but... I don't know what to do.”
    Evan smiled sadly. “Join the club. I probably have even less of a clue.”
    Matt clenched his fists at his side. “Finding myself turned on enough to cut glass and not knowing what the fuck to do about it is a new and unpleasant experience.”
    “Matt, please.”

    * * * *

    Matt waited for another moment, then pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, now in just his T-shirt and slacks. He watched Evan drain the rest of the beer— loved to see his mouth, his throat, moving, swallowing— then put it down next to the bed. Watched him slowly unbutton his own shirt.
    “Come over here and sit down before I lose my nerve.”
    Matt finally moved. He sat down a few inches from Evan, brushed his shoulder against him. Slid his hand behind Evan's neck and pulled him forward.
    “Tell me to stop,” Matt whispered. “Last chance.”
    Evan said nothing. Leaned forward and pressed his