A Matter of Twenty Dollars
Brandon Wood
Copyright 2011 by Brandon Wood
Smashwords Edition
“Because, Sailor Boy,” More tears. Or were those drops of rain? In this downpour, it was hard to tell, and in the tempest of emotions that was rushing through him, it was harder still to tell the truth from the lies, “You're all the same: you just want a kiss, you really like me even though you just met me and don't know a goddamn thing,” the beautiful disaster in front of him covered his face with his hands, sobbing, “anything about me!”
“I do really like you.” Not the most romantic thing to say, but it was true. Simple.
“Most of you don't even know my name when you use that line.” Moving closer, seducing him without trying, “What's my name?” Warm breath mixed with the stormy spring night. “I will go home with you if you get it right.”
“Tyler,” Sean said, searching those moonlit eyes for a sign that there was hope. “Why do you look so surprised?” The tears stopped then, replaced by a hard set to that soft jaw. “Don't shut me out.” He placed a hand on Tyler's cheek that was slapped away in a heartbeat and a flash of lightning.
“So you know my name!” Sean hated it when people yelled, but at least there was passion in Tyler's voice again. “And you know that I'm a liar and an emotional wreck and a thief! So, everything that you know about me is bad, and you stand here and tell me you like me? Bullshit!” Tyler spat the word, tears streaming down his sunkissed face. “Maybe,” more sobbing and a desperate look to the stormy sky, “maybe if you were honest and said you just wanted me for a night, I'd do it. Why wouldn't I? You're hot; you Navy guys always are, and always so full of promises that you never intended on keeping. You all just want to fuck,” more tears leaked from those tight, accusing eyes, “so why not just tell me that? If I really am the whore,” he screamed the words, shouting over the thunder, “that you all think I am, then it shouldn't take much to get me to your bed, right?”
“And how many of them have you fucked?” Sean regretted yelling the words as quickly as they had sprung from his mouth, hurled in an unjustified anger. If only those blue-gray eyes would look at him again in that same flash of of attraction that had drawn him to Tyler in the first place.
“Two.” Steely eyes locked with his and he could tell that Tyler was telling the truth. No one could fake that sincerity. “Only one of them willingly.” Wrapping his arms around Tyler came naturally and he was not rebuked in his embrace. “I'm just . . . so tired.” Haunting memories echoed in gray pools of sorrow as the storm drew closer.
“Can I kiss you?” Tyler's chin fit perfectly in his hands, soft lips drawing him in. “Just a kiss. I don't care who's said that to you before; I mean it.” If only he could taste those lips again, sweet like the smell of dirt after months of being out at sea. “I like you and I'm not going to stop saying that just because you've been hurt before.” Pulling Tyler closer, he rested his rain-slick forehead against Tyler's. “Stop thinking about your past and kiss me.”
Rain poured down in sheets and thunder rumbled across the pier as Tyler kissed him, slowly at first, delicately, hesitant. Strong winds blew rain soaked hair across Tyler's face as Sean placed his hands on Tyler's cheeks, pressing his lips against Tyler's, the storm inside of him matching the approaching hurricane in intensity.
“Now come back inside!” He shouted over the storm, worriedly looking out at the raging ocean. “I don't want you to catch a cold!” He was rewarded in his efforts with a smile that eclipsed the flashing lightning. Hand-in-hand they ran, slowed by the soggy sand, a smile on each of their faces, their eyes locked on each other.
Tyler's soaked white button up clung to the tight body that Sean yearned to touch, each muscle visible in the flickering candlelight of the empty cabin. “Will we be safe in here?” It was Sean's first hurricane season and though he was inexperienced with the weather, he couldn't imagine that the ratty cabin—more a shack than anything—was the best place to be in a storm.
“It's an old beach house.” Tyler turned his back, slowly unbuttoning the white shirt. As badly as he desired to walk up to Tyler, placing a hand on that firm, muscular back, he had made a promise. Just a kiss. A kiss that lingered in his thoughts as he watched Tyler pull off the wet shirt, tan, slick muscles gleaming in the sparse light of the abandoned house. “Been through plenty of storms in this place. It's much more sturdy than it looks and it's only supposed to be a tropical storm by the time it hits the shore. Besides, it's not like we can go anywhere else; we're miles away from town.”
“I know how far out we are.” Sean's heart skipped a beat as Tyler turned, facing him. “I had to walk the whole way.” His feet were still sore from walking miles down the beach pier in search of the gray-eyed stranger who had stolen his money.
“Why did you follow me—on foot—for miles? It was just twenty bucks.” Tyler placed his hands on the bottom of Sean's soaked Polo, tugging. “I have dry clothes and a blanket stashed in here, so change out of these,” more pulling at the shirt, “because it gets cold in here.” Sean took his shirt off himself, unsure if he would be able to deal with the temptation of having Tyler remove it. Gray eyes locked on Sean's chest, lingering for a moment before flitting away in embarrassment and a blush.
“That was my cab money.” Trying hard not to smile, he watched Tyler for any sign of remorse.
Instead, Tyler laughed, and flashed a smile. “Sorry, but that's pretty funny.”
“It lost its humor for me when it started to rain.” He took Tyler's hands in his own, looking into those enticing eyes. “Why did you steal from me? You never answered; and I have to know why a guy I was having such a good night with would run off with my money,” for the first time, he allowed the pain to be heard in his voice, “without saying goodbye.”