If I Stare Too Long

Chapter 15: Might Be Your Man (I Don't Know)

The problem with not putting labels on things is that it leaves everything terribly up in the air. It leaves them treading in unknown waters, uncertain and unsure.

Eddie, it seems, is content to leave it in Billy's hands. Steve is too busy navigating the deeper waters of a brand new attraction. And Billy– Billy is just too chickenshit to ask.

He'd thought about it when he'd been laying on Steve's bed, both men with their heads pillowed on his stomach. He'd thought about sinking his fingers into Steve's hair, asking if he would be his– but then he'd felt Eddie pat at his thigh and he thought Steve should be theirs. He didn't know how to ask Steve that.

He'd thought about it again when he'd been making out with Eddie two nights later, pinned to his couch. After Billy had tugged him down, so easy, after a restless night alone in his trailer– Steve's parents in town for the weekend– and Eddie had finally come and coaxed him over once Wayne left that morning for work. After Eddie had settled so perfectly over him, a grounding weight, as he kissed away all of the shadows lingering. He hadn't, but he'd definitely given it some thought.

Then when he'd had Steve pressed to the side of his car, after his parents left again, feeding him kiss after kiss when Steve rolled up in the middle of the night just to see them, he'd thought about it again. Never got the chance to work up the gumption, not when Eddie joined them and distracted him. Not when Steve left, kissing them both goodbye, looking tired but more settled to have seen them. Billy hadn't wanted to ruin the moment.

He thinks about it now, sitting in the sun at the edge of Lover's Lake on a late afternoon, watching Steve swim the radio out to the floating dock and Eddie laying out at his side.

"The others won't join us until sundown," Eddie tells him, dark hair tied up in a mess today, already wet and down to his underwear from tackling Steve into the water, eyes closed and face tipped up to the sun. "So we've got a while with the princess to ourselves."

He smells like sunscreen and summer. Billy wants to press his face to Eddie's throat and breathe deeply.

Out on the dock, Steve is hauling himself out of the water in red swim trunks that cling just right. He's laying out, a lazy sprawl that Billy can see even from here, radio near his head playing some plucky, poppy rock song loud enough that they can hear it from across the water.

Billy doesn't even know if there's a word for what they are. Or - what he wants them to be.

It's nice to be by the water, but it's too early in the day for Billy to give into the desire to push Eddie down into the sand, to claim him with his teeth. Before, when Billy had flattened Eddie to the rough surface of the dock, the sun had been set and the cover of the night had been a comfort.

With the sun high in the sky, Billy feels exposed. The light makes Billy feel see-through, and transparent. Anyone could see him. And so could Eddie. So could Steve.

"Remind me again why we're not by Harrington's pool?"

Billy's got a beer in his hand, condensation already dripping on his leg.

He thinks about swimming out to the dock. Thinks about blowing Steve while he sits there, legs over the edge, Billy still hidden in the safety of the water. Not that Steve wants that, yet– but Billy can dream.

Eddie sighs a little, shifting on the blanket next to Billy, throwing an arm over his eyes so that Billy can see the ink of a ghoulish puppetmaster across the soft skin of his inner arm. Billy feels flush with the urge to sink his teeth in.

"Probably nightmares," Eddie mutters.

When all Billy does is blink down at him, silent for a moment, Eddie squints up at him– then he shoves himself up into his elbows, faces a bit grim.