Page 16 of Coming to Grips
Chase pushes off the couch, but his paralyzed arm gives out and he loses his balance. The apple of his cheek hits Kyle’s shoulder and his forehead comes to rest at the juncture of Kyle’s neck and clavicle.
Kyle’s arm comes up instinctively to circle Chase’s shoulders. He wants to hold him close, hold him in place, nuzzle his hairline. Enjoy the closeness. But that isn’t what they’re about. “Easy there,” he says more tenderly than he intends, but Chase is pretty groggy and pays no heed.
“Sorry,” says Chase, hooking his left hand on the arm of the sofa and pulling himself upright.
Kyle lets him go. “Not a big deal. Go to bed.”
Chase shuffles to his bedroom on wobbly legs.
Kyle closes his own bedroom door and bangs his head lightly against it. He should talk to Chase. They’ve been friends a long time. They’ve talked about practically everything under the sun at one point or another. Except Anna. Except this.
Whatthisthough? There is nothisat this point.
Kyle wants to confess his feelings, his desire for more, but the words stick in his throat. He’d rather keep things the way they are right now for the rest of their lives than risk a breach they could never recover from.
Although Chase’s continued erections are giving him pause. It’s just not enough to take a chance on yet.
Kyle’s feelings are getting harder and harder to hide, harder to fight, however. If he doesn’t get himself under control, he’s going to give himself away.
* * *
“You ready?” Kyle asks, sliding his wallet into the side pocket of his cargo shorts.
Chase is similarly dressed. “Where are we going?” he asks, climbing into the truck.
“It’s a surprise,” is all Kyle will say. He’s got the day off and despite the laundry and other household chores needing to be done, he’s getting Chase out of the house. Kyle had hated being laid up when he’d broken his leg in middle school. Granted, Chase can get around on his own two feet, but he can’t ride and he can’t drive yet, so he’s still pretty ranch-locked.
When Kyle turns into the Hangar 25 Air Museum parking lot half an hour later, Chase turns wide eyes and a large smile toward him. Kyle’s heart trips over itself.
“Oh, my God,” exclaims Chase, “I’ve been wanting to come back here since that eleventh-grade field trip.”
“I know. So here we are. Let’s go.”
They meander around the hangar, looking at every single plane—not that there are that many. Chase babbles like the aviation nerd that he is, telling Kyle just as much about several of the aircraft as any of the pamphlets or plaques do. Chase’s voice washes over him, its tone and cadence familiar and cherished.
There are only a couple of the planes that you can actually climb into, and Chase does of course. Kyle snaps a couple of pictures of him looking joyful and carefree. Chase hasn’t looked this happy in years. Kyle takes a certain satisfaction in that.
It takes them maybe an hour and a half to view every aircraft. They stop in the little gift shop on the way out and Kyle buys him a key chain, one with an airplane dangling from it.
“What’s this for?” Chase asks.
Kyle shrugs. “Something to remember this place by.” To remember the day by, really. Kyle’ll never forget the look on Chase’s face when they’d turned into the parking lot.
