We ♥ It
Doyle felt he was keeping his game face. About a lot of things.
Funny, he thought he'd changed. But not really. No, he was still far deep into the closet. So deep he wasn't sure how to find his way out. Sure, he'd quit the job at the church even if he wasn't asked too. Naturally, his Mom didn't understand. But he kept telling her, it would be best if he went to something in the medical field. He had some credits leaning in the nursing area. And he was working toward being an X-Ray technician.
"Now you just have to start looking for a wife." She told him.
Of course, he kept wondering, any-day now she'd hand him over a catalogue and tell him to put an order in. He could see her pleading her case with the Sons of Ireland or Italy hoping the church would help her adopt the daughter she always wanted.
He hated to burst her bubble. And as he looked at Roger now, he had to wonder if he was just buying his time with him too. He could sense it. Roger could only take so much lip action. Yeah, they touched and he wanted to be with Roger, but it never went there.
Every-time, he saw him, he kept thinking, this might be it. This might be. And then, suddenly, he knew it was time to go home. He'd be apologetic and think Roger would never want to hear from him, again. It was an emotional roller-coaster. All in his head.
"What if you don't like it with me?" Doyle kept wanting to ask Roger, but he never did. And here they were under the stars and the moonlight in the bed of a pickup truck with only a quilt to cushion them. Doyle laid there with his hands behind his head. Fully clothed. Roger laid next to him, so quiet in his cargo shorts and tank.
The night felt so calm and the coolness was perfect. Not cold. Yet not a humid warm, either.
"Maybe we should do it right here." Doyle said.
"Are you crazy?" Roger looked at him. "Hello, I have a bed, back at my place."
"And, a house full of people." Doyle reminded him.
"That's never stopped me before." Roger winced.
"Yeah, about that." Doyle let himself say. "I mean, how is this gonna work, if you know-"
"God, is this what its about?'" Roger rose up on his elbows then and winced at Doyle.
"Its just if-" Doyle bit his bottom lip.
He could tell by Roger's restless breath that he wasn't that comfortable with so many questions.
"Maybe I've rather get it than give it." Roger finally said.
Doyle thought something might be stuck in his throat then. He hadn't thought of that. He winced more. What was Roger talking about?