Page 70 of Sapphire Spring

They were two hours into a homerenovation show marathon when Mason realized this was another first for him—aman he’d slept with staying in his home hours after they’d had sex. Noscurrying out the door as soon as the deed was done, no false promises ofanother hook-up to speed the guy’s departure along. Instead, said guy wassnuggled up to him on the sofa while they occasionally blurted judgmentalcomments about the cabinet selections being made by the people on television.

“I feel like every episode of this show turns into thiswoman giving a lecture on the virtues of putting a brass hood in the kitchen,”Naser finally said.

“True, but she seems like she’d be fun at parties,” Masonanswered.

Soon after, Mason was slipping in and out of consciousness,occasionally getting lost in strange little dreams that played with his senseof time. But in each one, Naser’s warmth and weight stayed steady. Finally, hewas roused by the gentle caress of the man’s fingers and found himself staringright into his eyes, which were inches away. “Someone’s sleepy,” Naserwhispered.

Mason stood up too fast, head spinning from drowsiness, onlyone eye open against the weight of a coming food coma. He put out a hand andNaser took it, and the next thing he knew, they were in the bedroom, strippingdown to their briefs, sliding into his bed from opposite sides.

Turning in for the night with another man next to me.Sober. So many firsts…

A few seconds later, they were spooning.

His sleep was deep and dreamless. For a while. Then his eyespopped open on a dark bedroom. The clock on the nightstand told him it was only3:46 a.m. He thought maybe a bad dream had roused him, but he couldn’t rememberany, and Naser was still next to him. But one word was on his mind, on the tipof his tongue, even though he’d never say it aloud again.

Prancer.

Moonlight spilled through the open curtains, falling in asoft, white line across Naser’s upturned shoulder. Their entwined bodies hadheated things up under the covers, and one of them had pushed the top sheet andcomforter down far enough to reveal Naser’s hip. He traced fingers along theedge of Naser’s briefs, tempted to draw them down, rouse him. Stroke him, suckhim. Bite him. But the sight of his hip inspired memories of the sassy, swayingwalk it had always played part in back in high school.

Prancer.

Who’d thought up the nickname? He couldn’t remember, justremembered that every time he spoke it, his unwanted desire for Naser contortedinto something that had made him feel safe even as it wounded the man lyingnext to him now.

And earlier that night, when Naser had confided in him aboutthe reason his mother thought she couldn’t take her young gay son to Iran,she’d cited that walk as one of them. The one that had earned him theirshittybrand.

The scope of the nickname’s insult hit Mason all at once,dropping something that felt like a big, cold rock in the middle of hisstomach. Heavy, indigestible. His fingers froze. Suddenly, it felt like he had noright to touch Naser at all, no right to enjoy the sight of his nearly nakedbody.

He could feel the full injustice of it for the first time,the way words you intend to wound only on the surface strike deeper than yourealize, sending shockwaves beyond the campus of Laguna Mesa, into Naser’shome, his family, his father’s memories of the country that was torn from him.Like throwing a rock through one window only to watch it crash through fivemore you didn’t realize were stacked up right behind it.

He fought the urge to wake Naser up right there, spill outthis realization on a tide of guilty tears. But who would that serve?

He’d just be unburdening himself and disturbing Naser’speaceful sleep.

Instead, what he needed to do was accept the magnitude ofwhat he’d done, make that acceptance a part of the person he was becoming.Remind himself that he hadn’t just been insulting a guy who made him feelfeelings he hadn’t liked at that time—he’d been injuring a guy who wasstruggling to find a place in his family, his culture, the world.

If this is what accountability and self-awareness felt like,no wonder so many people ran screaming from it.

And yeah, it would be easy to blame his dad for his behaviorback then. As much as he’d like to, it felt like a cheat. That’s why he’dgradually changed the subject when Naser brought it up. Maybe he should comeclean about that. To Naser. As soon as he was awake.

The heaviness didn’t leave hischest, butsleep finally returned.

He woke to a sun-filled bedroom and Naser’s fingers gentlystroking his chest, and he knew, for the first time in a while, what perfectcontentment felt like. Then Naser bit down gently on one of his nipples andsucked hard enough to make Mason gasp.

“Sorry. I’ve wanted to do that since last Friday.”

“Don’t apologize. Just give the other one some love nexttime.”

“Deal.” Naser lifted his head from Mason’s chest and smiled—boyish,carefree, and bright-eyed. It felt like the first time he’d seen the man’s facefree of the intensity of worry. “I like music in the mornings. Is that cool?”

“I’m open.”

“But my phone’s downstairs.” Naser pouted.

“All right, well, mine’s right there.”

“Seriously? I’m going to be allowed phone access after whatI admitted to last night?”

“iTunes access. How about that?”

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