CATALYST

TRAVIS

          We stood there, breathing hard and dripping with each other, his hand still wrapped around us both. I blinked a few times, not entirely sure he wasn't a ghost. Or maybe a dream.

      But he stayed where he was, his hips solid and firm and real beneath my hands, his breath warm on my face. I didn't want to move or speak for fear I'd break the spell. Was that the rapid fire of his heart I was hearing? Or was it mine?

      "Uh. Sorry." Careful not to get anything on the carpet, he let go of us both.

      "Don't apologize." Disappointed, I took my hands off him, even though what I wanted to do was pull him closer. "That felt great."

      "Yeah." He exhaled, his eyes closing briefly. "Give me a minute."

      He scooped up his pants and left the room, and I quickly used the hallway bath. Back in the guest room, I switched on the bedside lamp and tugged on underwear and the athletic pants he'd loaned me. The whole time, all I could think was, What the hell? Why did he keep apologizing? Was he going to brush me off again?

      "Hey."

      At the sound of his voice, I looked up. He stood in the doorway, jeans on, no shirt. In contrast to the way he'd stormed in before, all fire and muscle, now he looked almost afraid to enter.

      "Hey." I smiled at him. "You can come in."

      He walked into the room a few feet, stopping well short of where I stood. Fidgeted. Shoved his hands into his pockets. "Look, I know you don't want another apology or excuse, but I feel like I at least owe you an explanation."

      "Okay."

      "You must think I'm such an asshole," he went on, "barging in here like that, saying those things to you."

      "I don't think you're an asshole at all."

      "You must think something," he went on, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. Frustration edged his tone. "You barely reacted at all today when we talked about what happened last night. It was driving me crazy."

      "How was I supposed to react?" I stared at him in disbelief. "You said it meant nothing. You said you were drunk. You said to forget it. That's what I was trying to do." I hesitated, debating how forthright I should be and deciding to go for it. Maybe he wanted to hear this. Maybe it would make a difference. "But it's useless, David. I'll never forget what happened between us—last night or tonight. And I don't think you will either. But if you really didn't like it and want to pretend like nothing happened—again—no problem."

      His stubborn jaw twitched, but he didn't say anything for a moment. "I never said I didn't like it."

      "So you did like it?"

      He cocked a brow. "I think that was pretty obvious, don't you?"

      I had to smile.

      "But Travis, I didn't want to like it. It only causes problems for me." Sighing heavily, he leaned back against the dresser, his shoulders slumped. "I meant what I said this morning. I've never been with a guy before you. But I've...thought about it. I've wanted to know what it would be like."

      "And now that you know?"

       "My head is even more fucked up. If I hadn't come in here, the not-knowing would still be driving me insane. But now that I know, it's almost worse." He shook his head. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

      If I'd thought it would help, I'd have gone to him. Touched him. Reassured him what we'd done was okay, that he was okay. But somehow I felt like it would be the wrong move. Instead, I chose my words carefully. "There is nothing wrong with you, Derek. Don't be so hard on yourself. You were curious, and so was I. Things happened. If you want to forget it, we can, but if you feel like you might want to see where this goes...I'd be up for that, too."