The Broken Circles - 6. Chapter 6 - Coming and Going

I tried so very hard to keep my promises to my friends, and while I was largely good on keeping them, there were times when I outright failed. Chance certainly didn't force me to make that promise; I had made it hoping for the best. I simply didn't prepare for the worst. The upcoming months were dismal at best, I felt like half of my soul was being shredded by Chance's preparations of leaving DC, and that when he was gone, I'd be half the man I was.

Each time I saw Chance, my heart sunk to the pit of my stomach, and each time he mentioned needing something for his trip, my heart skipped a beat. No matter how much I tried avoiding the impending eventuality, Chance managed to bring it into reality. He was leaving and the gravity of knowing this made me quake in terror. It wasn't healthy to put that much love into one person, especially someone who couldn't reciprocate, but that was from years of loving him. Years of wanting and needing one person. And in a few months, he'd be gone.

I had begun severing connections to Chance in a vain attempt that this would make him realize that leaving would hurt him as much as it was hurting me. I didn't want to see him in pain, yet another reason to break away from him. When the gang hung out, I found excuses to sit away from him, avoid eye contact, and ignore any comments he made. Jokes he made felt like knives slicing through me, like they were sleights against me as a person. Periodically I could catch his eyes looking at me longingly, but I was quick to look away lest I give into his unspoken demands.

It was natural for me to flock closer to Mack and David even though they didn't much care for one another. Mack was a bit more sensitive about my feelings of Chance's departure and we usually parted from Mason's house together, and better yet, I found excuses for Chance not to come with. Malcolm never asked why the sudden shift in demeanor, and I never offered to talk about it. Instead, I forced myself to be cheery around him, cracking jokes and offering to drown my sorrows in video games and comic books after he left. Chance's reticence to make amends only fueled my anger towards him. If he didn't want to keep up the friendship then fuck'em. I slept a lot those days.

Oh how I raged in the summer of his departure. The others didn't say anything, but about 4 months before he was to leave, Lucy came to the house with words.

"What are you doing, Eli?" she asked. Her voice was laced with concern and minor irritation. I let her into the house and we sat down for a light lunch. Her meds made her ill some weeks and she had trouble keeping food down, so the meals were small and light. I couldn't muster the wherewithal to look her in the eyes. Even with the amount of sleep I was getting, it never seemed enough, so my eyes were red and bleary. When anyone asked what was up, I said flippantly, "Allergies," and that seemed enough. But not Lucy. She could see the hurt.

"What are you talking about?" I said between bites of ham and cheese sandwiches.

"You and Chance, you haven't spoken to him at all for the past 2 months," she replied, her big doe eyes starting at me intently. I shrugged, nonchalantly.

"It's nothing, Lu," I said, quietly. She grimaced and gave me her stern motherly look.

"Look, Chance is leaving in a few months, can't you be a little bit more civil towards him? You know how much you mean to him. Don't make the last few months of his stay miserable. Please. He doesn't deserve this."

"I don't deserve this either!" I snapped suddenly, surprising both of us with my raised shrill voice. "I'm in love with the man and he doesn't care!" Lucy sat back in her chair. Everything made sense to her now.

"Eli, of course he cares. And that's why your behavior is killing him! He's your best friend, for God sake, do you want the last moments you guys have together be of you ignoring him?" Her words were cutting into my defenses. My jaw tightened.

"It's better this way. He'll meet another 'best friend' when he's in Germany and forget about me. About all of us," I said, my eyes lowered staring at my plate of half-eaten food.

"Why would you say that? Don't you think he knows what you're doing?!"

"Oh he knows. That's exactly why he doesn't come to me asking about it. He really cares." My words dripped with venom and malice. When I looked up to meet her gaze, I could see her eyes soften with sadness.

"You are so wrong, Eli. He's dying inside because you don't want to be friends anymore. And you're killing yourself passively if you think he doesn't care."

"Why the fuck is this all my fault?" I said, falling back into my chair.

"I didn't say it IS your fault. But you are going to lose your best friend very soon. And at the rate you're going, it might be permanent." Lucy spoke those words with a tinge of permanence. "Enough about you and him for a moment. I have something to ask you."

"What?" I felt my body deflate. Lucy smiled weakly.

"Okay, I lied, it is about him, sort of," she began. I gave her a squirrely look as she continued. "I am making a quilt for Chance. I'm done with everything but the patches, but I wanted the group to make individual patch to make it more personal. Do you think you can set aside your hatred for the man and do this one thing for me?"

"I don't hate him, Lucy," I said, sourly. She rolled her eyes and smiled coyly.

"Then prove it. Make the patch. I'll bring over the cloth and teach you how to do it. He's leaving mid-August, so you have 2 months to complete it."

"Fine. How on earth did you get Mack and David to agree to this?"

"David didn't take much to get him to agree, he's actually halfway done. Mack was a different story."

"Oh lord, what'd you do?" I asked, reaching for my coffee.

"I told him, you'd help him with it,” she said with a wink. It never dawned on me that others would see the dynamic between Mack and I to be anything more than platonic. At least that's how I saw things. Did people see something different? I gave her a blank, stupid look and murmured, "Uh, okay." She gave me a sly look and even winked to prove her point.

***

Her innuendo certainly didn't go unnoticed. Hours after she left, Mack knocked on the door with a tackle box and a couple yardage of cloth. Lucy taught me the basics of making a patch for the quilt and showed me how to stitch things by hand. The practice pieces had droplets of blood from where I poked myself with the needle, but by the time she left, I had a sewn on a few felt letters. And as she left she made mention of my being able to help Mack out in a few different ways. What the heck? I thought as I closed the door.

In a sense, she helped me not dwell on Chance as much. Mack lumbered in and we sat downstairs on the sofa and I began showing him how to cut the cloth and prepping all of the pieces. I guess due to my artistic background everything seemed pretty natural for me, though arts and crafts eluded me in some ways, like how NOT to poke yourself with needles. A few minutes at a time would pass then invariable I'd jab myself with the needle, emit a shrill scream and spend a minute sucking on my injured finger. Mack fared even worse than I; his huge fingers couldn't handle the needle proficiently. His stitches would up too far apart and the fabric seemed loosely sewn on. He was tenacious though, and spent an hour sewing on a square only to grumble something under his breath and began rifling through his toolbox.

"What are you doing?" I asked, peering over his shoulder. I saw various tools but he ended up pulling a hot glue gun and plugging it in. He turned his head and grinned craftily.

"Going to Plan B," he said. Oh lord, I thought, he's going to burn down the house.

"Just make sure you don't get molten glue on your skin, please. I have no idea how to get it off," I said sternly, then to show I was joking, I looked up at him and smiled coyly. Mack who had been studying my face, turned bright red and he went to hot gluing his patch.

"This is really cool," he said, softly. I smiled and nodded and gently rocked against his shoulder. In this stage of our friendship, that form of affection seemed natural, not forced, and both of us seem to thrive on it in small doses. The latter part of that statement is only because it never dawned on me to push it further. Not so sure about him.

"Yeah, it's better than stabbing myself on my own." And right on cue, I pricked myself again. "FUCK!"

"I have gloves in here somewhere," Mack offered helpfully, putting the cool side of the glue gun between his teeth while scrounging through the tackle box. He grabbed a pair of workman's gloves and toss it over his shoulder which landed on my lap, then he turned his head and casually smiled with the glue gun in his mouth as gravity brought a glob of hot glue landing across his forearm and hand. His face went from fleshy pink to bright angry red as he groaned in pain, dropping the hot glue gun onto the floor, which I reacted instinctively by grabbing it before it adhered to the carpet. "Shit!" he exclaimed, holding his arm. Putting down my patch, I reached over and grabbed his arm and placed it gently on my leg for further examination.

"See? I told you this would happen, Mack," I said. I took a pair of scissors and began cutting off the still wet glue. It only took a few minutes to really get it all off and afterwards, I ran upstairs for aloe ointment. Mack hadn't moved and offered his arm to me once more as I applied a generous amount to the wound. "This should help with the actual burn, but I had to cut away some of your arm hair."

"It'll grow back," he said, nodding. I brought his arm up and blew on the injury. Mack's free hand found its way to my knee as I brought his arm closer, and there was a strange moment of silence as my eyes met his. His eyes were this stormy gray color, a shade that I could easily lose myself in, and was, and I felt myself leaning in slowly. Our faces got close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin.

"Anyone home??" I heard upstairs and I shot straight up into the air. Mack looked as surprised as I and we sat rigid, the moment lost forever. I shouted out, "We're down here, Todd!" Todd was one of those artsy 50 somethings that was really laid back. Jenna was equally artsy and both would gang up and complain that I didn't do enough art. Like I needed the reminder of art school.

"Hey, Eli, Mack, how are you two doing?" he asked innocently. Mack's face was beet red, and I could have sworn Todd's words focused on 'you two' dripped with sexual innuendo, but I wasn't sure if I was simply making things up.

Simultaneously with strained voices, Mack and I chimed in, "Fine!" Happy, or perhaps more amused with the response, Todd grinned and headed back upstairs, piping in," Jenna and I are home, but we'll be upstairs watching a movie. Have fun boys." We exchanged shy glances and went back to sewing our patches. With the moment lost, I couldn't find words to say, and Mack's face was showing his nerves, so I didn't want to press the subject.

Part of me felt like I had cheated on Chance. Guilt and shame and more guilt made my face contort sourly, as I mulled over the events of the evening.. My leg could still feel Mack's hand, and as much as I hated to admit it, it felt nice. It felt welcomed after not being touched in that way ever. As nice as it was, guilt overpowered any pleasure sensors and I decided to tuck the memory, as nice as it was, into a tiny corner of my mind and let it collect dust.

***

The patch was completed in 2 months. I hadn't planned what I wanted it to look like so the entire process was very free form. I made a patch that looked like him with hard contour lines of fabric. Mack was amazed that I hadn't used a picture for reference, and really I didn't need it. I knew the lines of his face perfectly, ingrained in my memory. There were smaller free floating heads of the circle of friends but they looked far more caricature-ish and nondescript. Mack's patch looked more industrial, there were spots of glue dabbled here and there, and he used a metallic looking fabric that shined in the light. Lucy had sewn a relatively large quilt in her free time, and incorporated ours into the edges, marking it almost like a compass. Mine was north.

My attitude was still a bit sour around Chance, and to make things more complicated, I wasn't sure how to react around Malcolm. He seemed fine with giving me space, but really, was that what I wanted? It was like he realized what had happened was a mistake and was feeling regret. I apparently was great at burning my bridges. I was still pissed off at Chance and avoided him when the group gathered. I could admit to Lucy how I felt about him but not to Chance. Doing so would make him leaving hurt all the more. As the weeks winded down, my anxiety of Chance's impending departure became almost unbearable. Each time I saw him make eye contact with me, my heart would feel like lead, my skin would get clammy and I begun having panic attacks. I withdrew from everyone altogether, emerging from the basement only to go to work and I began scheduling going to work when I knew no one could pester me. It took a lot of planning but in my mind, as freaked out as I had become, separating myself from everyone I knew seemed like the right course of action. After what happened with Mack, I felt like I was inadvertently poisoning those I cared for. Todd and Jenna would mention when I got home that Lucy, or Chance or Mason would stop by, but thankfully my plan was secure. Of course I couldn't avoid *everyone*. Mack still stopped by the store, but my defenses were up by then. I wouldn't allow myself to look weak in front of him. I couldn't allow myself.

"Hey," he said, his gentle voice caught me off guard, "Eli, I haven't seen you in a month."

"Yeah, I've been busy," I murmured, shelving a couple bottles of pills. I didn't bother turn my head to face him, hoping he'd disappear soon. I could see him in my peripheral vision standing there. "What's up?"

"Well, I wanted to make sure you were okay is all." His words were drenched with regret. I grimaced, then replaced it with a smile as I turned to face him.

"Yeah, I'm great, Mack. How are you?" My response was worthy of an Oscar. Mack looked relieved. He undoubtedly saw regret on my face and was glad to see that were on the same page.

"I'm good. Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go to gym. You look--" My mind flashed to all the possibilities of what he could be thinking. Sick? Fat? Out of shape? Fuck him! "-stressed. Maybe a few rounds in the ring will help you unwind?"

That response certainly caught me off guard. I looked at him uneasily, lips pursed tightly. Finally after giving it some thought, I replied, "Sure." Mack flashed a rather genial smile and said, "Great, I'll pick you up after work." I was worried what I had gotten myself into, but before I could truly dwell on it, my boss Janice called my name to help costumers pouring into the store.

A few hours later, Mack showed up with his gym bag and we headed to a tiny gym near his office. Admittedly, I never been in a real gym, and I had no idea what to expect, but much like the movies, there was a boxing ring, and some big burly men lifting weights and jumping rope and flexing their muscles in a mirror. I half smiled and half smirked at how silly the scene looked. I would never be one of those people, the big butch guy flexing in the mirror, parading how awesome he looked. The smile disappeared completely when one of the big burly men who was lifting weights approached the two of us.

"MacKenzie, I didn't know you were into little boys," he said, smiling and pounding fists with Mack. Mack looked at me and scowled slightly.

"Eli, I assure you is all man. Could probably kick your ass all over the ring, Stoner" he replied. The man let out a guffaw of a laugh and reached over to shake my hand.

"Hey, boyo, I'm Leonard, but you can call me Stoner," he said, smiling, his face was rough but covered with laugh wrinkles. Seemed like a nice guy, I thought, shaking hands, feeling a massive paw squeeze mine a bit too tight. Gonna need ice later, I reminded myself.

"Eli," I said politely, inching towards Mack.

"Whatcha small fry like you doing here?" Stoner asked, his posture upright, arms crossed.

"M-Mack is going to help me vent some of my frustrations in the ring," I replied nonchalantly. Stoner gave Mack a cockeyed glance and then back at me. "I'm going to get my ass kicked."

"Nah, Mack is a pro, he'll be gentle with ya. Just like he was gentle with me, ain't that right, Mackyboy?" again Stoner laughed loudly, and I could feel the vibrations in the soles of my shoes. Mack nodded while I pondered the innuendo of Stoner's statement. We headed to the locker room and Mack got dressed into sweats and a t-shirt. I didn't have work out clothes so I stayed in my khaki's but had stripped off my button down shirt, leaving on my undershirt.

"What did he mean by calling you a pro?" I asked, tightening my shoelaces on my tennis shoes. Mack glanced up at me and his eyes twinkled mysteriously. He smiled gently, his eyes averted and said, "A long time ago, my dad got me into boxing, and I did that after school, instead of playing sports. Not much of a team player I guess. Got real good and probably would have kept it up with it if Anna hadn't gotten pregnant." His voice tapered off, his eyes refused to meet mine. "Gone pro, you know?"

"Yeah," I said reassuringly. "You sound really happy talking about boxing."

"Hell yeah. When I was in the ring, it felt like I had become a completely different person. Adrenaline rushing, crowd's cheering; it's just you and your opponent. Changes a man when you get in the ring. You'll see in a sec." We exited the locker room and I felt my nerves get the better of me staring at the ring ahead of us. Mack had a giddy look on his face that was all too rare. "Okay, so lets go over basics. First, your arms and fists, gotta protect your head. You get hit in the head too many times, you're gonna lose consciousness. That's bad."

"This is the most you've ever talked in a single sentence, Mack," I said, chuckling. Mack gave me a surprised look and smiled disarmingly. "This really makes you happy, doesn't it?"

"Is it that obvious?" he asked. I nodded, then got into the same pose as he, arms up, defending my face. "Anyway, you're striking your opponent but make sure you don't waste energy swinging wildly, you'll tire yourself out. Now, make sure your legs are bent and alternate your weight on your feet. Movement is important, otherwise you'll make yourself a sitting duck. Watch me." Mack begun shifting his weight in a way that made him look like he was hopping side to side, but with very small movements. It looked like he was dancing. In a sudden flash of movement, he strafed and was behind me and when I whirled around to face him, our faces were mere inches apart. "See what I mean?"

"Uh, yeah!" I said dumbly, backing up slowly, mimicking his footsteps. It probably looked comical, and more like doing the hustle but quicker and without rhythm. A few of the gym goers stared and chuckled, which set me on edge immediately. Mack looked at me concerned, "Don't let them get to you, you're doing fine."

"I feel like a tool," I said over the catcalling of the men near the free weights. Assholes, I thought, casting them a sideways glare.

Mack showed me the ropes, he was very hands on, calm and collected. He corrected my posture, how to move through the stances fluidly, I felt pretty damn good toward the end. The boxing gloves were a bit too large on my hands, and I felt like a little kid wearing them. "These are my old gloves from high school, so I figured they'd fit you better than any here," Mack said, tightening the laces.

"Really?! Jesus, Mack, your hands must have been huge as a teenager," I said, astonished. Mack chuckled and murmured, "Yeah, well, my teachers use to call me Knuckledragger." I gasped in horror. "That's horrible!"

"Enh, after I hit my growth spurt and filled out, they stopped doing that," he replied, grinning. When the gloves were properly tightened, he brought his hand up to my cheek and gently patted it affectionately. I grinned sheepishly.

"So, you remember everything I taught you?" he asked, putting on his gloves. I nodded slowly, my mind recalling most of what he told me. I'll admit that I had trouble focusing. The men at the free weights were now crowding the ring, and their jeers were drowning out a lot of my thoughts. "We won't use headgear at least for today, just make sure you don't knock out one of my fillings."

The two of us began circling one another, fists raised and I was far from graceful. Watching Mack dance about the mat looked amazing, so effortless, and it almost looked like he was hovering. We traded blows, obviously nothing painful. The gloves felt like they weighed my hands down, and I got in a few good hits. Don't know how long we were at it, only that it felt like hours of gliding across the mat, and I was able to drown out the taunting men. That was until I heard--

"Hey Mackyboy, tag out so I can show your boy how a real man boxes!" A man hollered out above the rest of the men. My eyes suddenly saw red, and I'm not sure why his words echoed in my head the way it did, but when I recoiled a hand to strike, I felt my body turn and my fist connect with that guys face. It happened in a span of a second and the schmuck went flying off the mat, landing square on his back with an audible, "OOF!" Time slowed down just in time for everyone to stop yakking and my eyes to bug out of my head in shock. Mack looked equally shocked. Oh shit, I thought, first time at the gym and I'm going to be chased off the premises by an overly muscled lynch mob.

"Holy shit! He just took out Smithy!" one of the gym goers shouted! I began cowering towards Mack, stripping the gloves off. Inching towards the locker room, waiting to be set upon by everyone, I was a little shocked when everyone starting laughing. The guy named Smithy was reeling from the punch, his nose bleeding, and he sat up, seemingly unaware of what had just happened. "Hell yeah! I bet he doesn't even know what day it is!"

"He never knows what day it is!" another man said, through fits of laughter. I felt a few slaps on the back, and saw Mack was smiling, brimming with coachly pride. He leaned over and said, "Man, the number of times I wanted to do that to him. Nice shot, Eli."

Afterwards in the locker room, I was sitting, straddling the bench watching Mack get out of his gym clothes. The shock and amazement had dissipated, and I felt a bit of regret and guilt of actively hurting another person.

"You did good out there," Mack said, reassuringly. I sighed.

"I didn't mean to punch that guy," I said a bit ashamed. My friend sat next to me, hunched his shoulders and lowered his head to look into my eyes.

"You're a pacifist, right?" he asked, to which I nodded. "Look, everyone has their breaking point. Even the most staunch pacifist. Smithy got what was coming to him."

"Yeah, but it doesn't make it right," I replied. My eyes averted from Mack's intent stare, but I felt his hand come up to my cheek and with his thumb, gently caress it.

"I'm not going to tell you what's wrong and right, Eli, but in my book, you showed that loudmouth asshole what for! And you proved that you aren't some helpless little guy. I'm proud of you," he said. Hearing his words made me blush. It felt good hearing that. He quickly added with a stern look, "Just make sure you never punch me like that," as we headed out of the gym.

***

Things stayed the same for a while leading up to Chance's going away party. I avoided him for a long stretch of time, and after the first month, Chance stopped trying. Lucy had to really twist my arm to get me to come to the party, which was the last thing on my to do list. I was a little surprised how fast his going away party crept up on me. We decided to host it at Drew's house, which I thought was fitting; the last place I'd see him would be the first place we met. I decided to come late, stay for a few minutes, bid Chance a farewell and disappear conveniently. It didn't work out that way.

I was indeed late, but the house was packed with people and it took me 5 minutes to find someone I recognized. Mack had been standing at the punch table looking a bit out of place so I glommed onto him. He seemed fine with it all, gesturing to David chatting with a guy whose back was to me. I could tell by the body language that the two were attracted to one another by the telltale signs of hands touching each other, the casual lean in, and blatant face sucking.

I leaned over to Mack and chuckled, "It's about damn time David hooked up with someone."

"Yeah, it's scary how long he's been without 'snogging' someone," Mack said dryly. I jabbed Mack in the ribs and gave him one of those, 'play nice' glares, but chuckled nonetheless.

"Where's Mason and Lucy?" I asked. The house was a maze, spanning two floors of rooms that led to more rooms. Mack shrugged.

"I saw Mason with Drew showing him a few rifts on the guitar. Who would have though Mason would have a musical bone in his body?" he replied. "Lucy was chatting with Tiffany." I looked terrified. "Don't look at me!" Mack exclaimed his hands up defensively.

"Oh, well, so long as they're having fun."

"Chance is out on the balcony," Mack added calmly. I sighed, building up the nerves to head outside. "Look, I'm no dummy, I know you've been avoiding him. Like the plague. But he's your pal, you owe it to him to give him a proper farewell."

"Mm, I guess," I replied noncommittally. I headed to the balcony, passing David who before he could wave, the mystery man lunged and drove his tongue down David's throat. My eyes bugged out of their sockets at the sight and I made a face. "Oh man, guys, get a room!" I said, stepping through the door leading to the patio before I could get a good look at the guy. David's business I guess. Maybe it was a little bit of jealousy seeing someone get action when I haven't in...well, ever.

Mason was sitting outside with Drew, and I could hear guitar chords being strummed. Even though I’m not remotely musically inclined, it sounded nice to me. Mason looked far more relaxed than I'd ever seen him; he wore a black Metallica t-shirt and a quirky fisherman's hat cocked to one side. Drew waved at me but almost immediately went back to Mason's guitar strumming. Chance had his back to me, his elbows resting on the patio railing. Almost like he could sense my presence, he turned around and gave me a weak smile. That look he gave was one part adoration, desperation and resignation. I felt my defenses crumbling away almost immediately. Chance pulled me into a powerful hug that lifted me off the ground, and I reciprocated. The hug lasted a long time, which for me was perfectly fine, but when we pulled away, I could see his face was moist with tears. Mine too.

"I wasn't sure if you'd make it tonight, Eli," he said meekly. To avoid making a scene in public, we headed down to the koi pond and sat on the bench that we had sat on those many years ago. "I was terrified that you'd not show up."

"I'm here, Chance," I said. All I could feel was guilt, guilt for being a terrible friend, and guilt for making him feel as bad as he looked. Chance reached over and grabbed my hand and squeezed it and my heart skipped a beat.

"So you don't hate me? For leaving?" he asked. Again, his voice was tinged with desperation. I squinted my eyes shut. I felt the rage begin to quell; it took months for it to pass but when it did, it left nothing but loneliness and guilt in my heart. I shook my head. "Please, Eli, say something. I'm leaving in a few hours and I don't want things to end this way."

"I...love you, Chance," I croaked, then immediately recoiled physically like I had touched a burning stove. I expected Chance to react violently but he only squeezed my hand reassuringly.

"I know, Eli," he said, looking into my eyes. I felt the tears start to form. Shit, I thought, Chance's last night and I dropped the biggest bomb I could. Way to go Eli, way to fuck things up more. "I've always known."

"What?" I asked. Chance nodded and that dopey, sheepish smile appeared on his face.

"You're terrible at hiding your feelings. That's what I like most about you."

"And it doesn't creep you out?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No, and you should know better than to think that. We've been friends for years now, Eli, why on earth would that creep me out?"

"Because...I dunno, it's strange and weird knowing your best friend loves you 'in that way.'"

"It doesn't. You're my BEST friend, Eli. I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world."

"Then why didn't you bring this up? Years ago?"

"Why didn't you?' he replied. I frowned.

"Because I'd be terrified of losing my best friend," I answered. Chance scoffed. "So, what about you? Why didn't you bring it up?" Chance took his time forming his thoughts.

"Because... I knew I wouldn't be able to give you the love you felt for me. I didn't want to lose you if I out and out said that. I know, it's pretty cowardly of me," Chance murmured. "Believe me, if I could, I would. Hell, even now I'm thinking of ways to make it work."

Chance looked at me, staring intently into my eyes. Suddenly, he leaned forward and planted his lips on mine and we shared the second kiss in 4 years. His free hand clasped the back of my head to keep me from pulling away. It was so much better than the first time, no pretenses of playing a game, no Tiffany staring over our shoulders as we did it, counting down the seconds. This time, it was of our own volition. Well, mine at least. But it dawned on me: he was doing this because of me. Not that he wanted to. Holy shit, this was going to make things worse! I yanked back suddenly.

"Chance, this is wrong!" I exclaimed, panting from the endorphins pumping through me. I could see from the look on his face that he was half-grateful that I was the one that disengaged. "I'm sorry, Chance, but this isn't who you are." I pulled him into a hug and embraced him tightly. In his ear I whispered, "No matter how much I want you to be."

"Thank you, Eli," he said quietly. "For understanding and for everything. I do love you."

"I know, Chance, I know," I said, letting the tears stream down my face. "I love you too."

"So, we're good?"

"Yeah, I think I really needed this," I murmured against his neck. "Maybe now I can finally move on with my life."

"Heh, I needed this too. I hated not having you in my life for the past few months," Chance said, chuckling softly. His arms felt nice around me, but for the first time ever, it felt almost like a complete stranger hugging me instead of the man I fell desperately in love with. In a good way. Chance kissed my forehead and tousled my hair and looked me square in the eye and quipped, "So what's up with you and Mack?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked dumbly.

"You *know* what I'm talking about, Eli. Something's going between you two, now spill," he said. We went back to watching the koi fish swim about in the lazy summer evening. Chance had slipped his arm around to my waist and I rested my head on his shoulder with his head against mine.

"I really don't. We're just friends, right?" I asked aloud and in my head I chimed snarkily, "Right!"

"Eli," Chance said in a serious tone, "I've seen the way David and Mack are around you. You have to notice that both are attracted to you."

"Okay, what are you talking about? David is in the house snogging some guy and Mack," I held back wondering if this impending statement was appropriate, "Mack was married. Trust me, Chance, nothing is going to happen between me and either of those two."

"All right, don't say I told you so when I told you so," he said, smiling lopsidedly. "I'm just trying to make sure everything is in tip top shape for when I'm gone. You're gonna have to watch over Lucy. And get Mason high more often. He's a ton of fun when he's baked."

"Of course, Chance," I said. A minute of silence passed before I realized something. "Wait, Mason's high?!"