Growing Pains Read online

  It had been seven years since he’d last seen him, and, sure, Brock had figured Toby would have grown up a lot, but he’d been counting on recognizing him by the eyes and hair. Maybe a secretive part of him had hoped he’d recognize him no matter what, that their connection had been deep enough to keep them attuned despite the years.

  Yeah, no such luck.

  Then Gigi had introduced himself to Evie the next day, in front of Brock and Katie, as Gigi Rosenberg, and that had been it.

  Seriously, it was like electricity shivering through him, lighting up every nerve and cell, and afterwards Brock had been overwhelmed by absolute and complete certainty. Gigi was it. Brock had never been more sure about anything in his life, and it felt so good. He wasn’t religious, but this moment came damn close. It was like the clouds had parted and a freaking ray of sunlight had beamed onto Toby/Gigi’s head and revealed all the features Brock had once known like the back of his hand. The wicked eyes, the wide mouth, the long nose, all of those were still there and so obviously Toby’s that Brock had wondered how he hadn’t recognized them before. Okay, he’d gained a ton of definition and muscle, and sure that changed his outer shape, but the core of him was still there.

  So, he’d finally found Toby Rosenberg. The search was over. Brock had decided then and there that he wasn’t letting him go ever again.

  Now, in this parking lot, that decision was laughable in its optimism.

  They reached the car. Brock dropped his bag into the back, then settled into the passenger seat. Gigi fussed with his seat and belt, avoiding Brock’s gaze.

  What was the phrase? Cut the tension with a knife? This felt more like a suffocating cloud of bad energy.

  He could try to clear the air? Or give Gigi an opportunity to speak his mind? Things tended to go better if they spoke (ranted) openly about problems.

  Brock took a deep breath. “It’s a mistake that I’m coming.”

  Gigi turned to him, eyes flashing. “You trying to convince me, sweetie?”

  “No. But you’ll see once we’re there.”

  Gigi rolled his eyes. “I’m supposed to be the dramatic one. It’s not a mistake. It’s a wedding. And it’s four days.” He stared at Brock. “We can handle four days.”

  “It’s not the time, it’s the people.”

  Gigi blinked, then his expression softened. “I know. I’m scared too. But we can handle them. We’re adults now, you know?”

  Brock wasn’t so sure about that. “I . . .” I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want my parents to know I’m in town. I don’t want you to be exposed to them. I don’t want to come out to them.

  He couldn’t say that. Not with their history. Not when Gigi had no sympathy for closet cases. Saying he was scared to be out in Maney and could they maybe please not be all over each other would get him dumped and out of the car quicker than it took Gigi to rip a heckler to shreds.

  Such a coward.

  His throat closed up, and he looked out the window.

  “What? You what?” Gone was any softness or understanding from Gigi’s voice. “Finish the fucking sentence.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Gigi made a noise of frustration and started the car. “See, this thing you’re doing? Right now? This is driving me fucking nuts.”

  Oh, like he could talk? “And you getting on my case because I decided to not finish a sentence is getting real fucking old.”

  Gigi shifted into drive with unnecessary force. “To think I was vaguely missing you before you came here. Clearly absence does make the heart grow fonder.”

  Brock’s own heart panged. “What is this? You were the one saying you wanted to break up.”

  “I do not want to break up!” Gigi glared at him. “But this isn’t working, babe. This fucking sucks.”

  “I’m here. That’s what you wanted.”

  “I didn’t want to make you come to Maney with me! Not like this!”

  “Then like how? I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be here. I can’t suddenly want to go just because it’s important to you. I want to be at home, with you, queuing up some shitty movie on Netflix, and settling into the weekend.”

  Gigi’s eyes took on a glistening sheen, but he scowled and blinked it away. “Then how about you queue up some shitty movie on your phone so that at least you’re doing something important to you?” He took his foot off the brake, and the car began rolling forwards. “And don’t talk to me. I want to drive, not crash into a tree for some freaking relief from bullshit.”

  Fine. Fucking fine.

  Brock pulled out his cell and headphones and turned to stare out the window, wishing this weekend was over already.

  Last autumn

  Gigi curled up in his chair, hands over his eyes so he could block out the screen in front of them. Oh God. It was unbearable. Too horrific to watch. So gross.

  Brock nudged him. “You can look now.”

  Gigi uncovered his eyes to see Carmen and Claude stumbling around on the screen instead of him and Mark. He breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  Katie and Brock’s documentary about the summer’s dance competition, Fierce, was being shown in a U of T screening room, and Gigi and Brock were watching along with the other participants and most of Katie and Brock’s film class. So far it was kind of amazing to see each couple progress through their routines, to watch them become friends and discuss LGBTQIA issues on screen. Seeing the progress condensed into twenty minutes alone was awesome.

  Or it would be if the camera hadn’t added like twenty pounds to Gigi. Why? Why? He looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man galumphing around with Mark. You’d never know the guy behind the camera was dating him. Jeeesus.

  He jerked up straight, struck by a horrifying thought: what if the camera wasn’t lying? What if that was actually how he looked? Omigod what do I do?

  Brock took his hand as the film went from Carmen and Claude to Tyler and Evie. Gigi watched them dancing, totally oblivious to the camera. It really was very sweet the way they looked into each other’s eyes and kept blushing and laughing. It was less cute when they were doing it now, in the seats next to him. Practically vomitous. That was a word, right?

  “Oh fuck,” Brock gasped, dropping Gigi’s hand.

  Hey. What’s that about? Gigi looked over at him, then heard the questions start on screen. Katie was asking Evie and Tyler about the routine, then Brock interrupted with some kind of freaking monologue about how great they were.

  Gigi watched in disbelief as Brock sat in a circle with Evie and Tyler, getting love advice from them. The audience around them chuckled as Brock blatantly broke documentary fourth wall logic or whatever the film rules were, but Gigi barely heard them. Brock’s face on screen was totally desperate. He was begging for help with Gigi. With him.

  Brock had done this? Why hadn’t he said anything? Didn’t he realize how totally . . . how unbelievably . . .

  Gigi didn’t even have words for this.

  He glanced over at his boyfriend. Brock’s hands covered his face as he slumped in his seat. So cute. He turned back to the documentary and watched Evie hatch a plan to get Brock together with him. A plan that had worked very well, incidentally. Three months later, they were totally dating and serious about it.

  Like, Gigi had daydreamed about being boyfriends with someone and doing all the cutesy shit couples seemed to do, but it turned out getting to that reality was difficult. Not that he had problems meeting guys and hooking up or whatever, but sometimes he’d thought it would be impossible to meet someone and actually be with them.

  But Brock was easy to be with. And right now, Gigi wanted nothing more than to fuck his adorable, devoted, completely amazing boyfriend until they both passed out.

  Unfortunately, they were in public, so Gigi reached over, pried one of Brock’s hands off his face, and held it tightly instead. Brock made a whimpering noise, then sunk farther back in his chair, only relaxing once the scene was over. They didn’t let go until the f
ilm was over, then the lights came on and the audience began buzzing around them.

  “I begged Katie to edit it out but she wouldn’t,” Brock said immediately.

  Gigi leaned over and kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear, “We need to go home so I can fuck you.”

  Brock went bright red. “Uh. Okay. So that wasn’t as embarrassing for you as it was for me? Good to know.”

  “I wondered how you’d react to that,” Evie said behind Gigi.

  He turned around. Both Evie and Tyler were grinning knowingly at him. Gigi channelled some LaMore and arched an eyebrow. “I am amazed that you two could watch yourselves up there. Practically screwing on screen. Filth, darlings.”

  Evie scoffed. “Not quite sure how you pulled screwing out of stepping on each other, but all right.”

  “Gigi is just uncomfortable with portrayals of honest intimacy,” Tyler said teasingly. Gigi knew he was joking, but that was totally unfair. He could do intimacy!

  “Just so you know,” Gigi said, “the only reason I’m even discussing this with you right now is because you’re blocking the way out of the row.”

  “I’m stoked you all liked it. Katie and I really wanted to capture the three different kinds of relationships that evolved over the competition,” Brock started behind them. “So, Evie and Tyler falling in love”—they blushed—“Claude and Carmen doing this student-teacher thing while exploring alternative ways of expressing female desire, and you and Mark becoming friends even though you’re very different people. It was all really honest and open, and I think it’s one of the best pieces in my portfolio.”

  His baby was so smart. So smart. He was going to do great things when he graduated next spring. Gigi turned and kissed him. “You made a movie, sugarplum, and it’s wonderful. Even if you made my ass look big.”

  Brock cocked his head. “It’s a documentary, and I don’t know what you mean? The camera lens we used was the standard—”

  “But it’s okay. I forgive you.” Gigi turned back to Tyler and Evie, who weren’t even trying to hide their laughter. “You still here?”

  Tyler rolled his eyes. “Come on, Evie, I think we’re delaying something.” He began shuffling along the row of seats. They left en masse and joined the audience filtering through to the bar next door, where a bunch of people descended on Brock and began asking him questions.

  Hmph. Well, Gigi guessed fucking until they passed out could wait. People were coming up to him to ask questions too, given his lardy butt had been captured teaching Mark proper hold for twenty minutes, and that apparently merited attention from complete strangers.

  Okay, being asked questions because he’d been in a movie was kind of awesome too.

  In fact, he was sort of enjoying it all until he noticed two guys talking to Evie and Tyler. One of them was tall and looked like an artist, if that artist had five hundred dollars to spare on a jacket. The other was compact and a little shorter, with sandy hair, and an ass to kill for. He was also cruising Brock from across the room like it was open season on beef.

  Oh.

  Hell.

  No.

  Luckily Brock didn’t seem aware of him. And he wasn’t going to be. Gigi excused himself and went over to his boyfriend, winding his arm around his waist and kissing his cheek. “You almost done, lover?”

  The people in front of Brock smiled, and Brock went red. “Almost. Everyone, my boyfriend, Gigi.” Gigi nodded at them before glancing back over at Mr. Boyfriend-Thief.

  Who winked at him, then turned to the artsy guy next to him and put an arm around him.

  Unbelievable.

  Some people needed to be kept on a leash.

  Finally Brock was done and Gigi could hustle him outside into the brightly lit streets of downtown Toronto. He dragged him onto the TTC and off it again near his house.

  “Gi, what’s the rush?” Brock asked as Gigi marched them through suburbia.

  “I need to get you home.”

  “Why?” Brock’s voice was oddly strained. “Did I do something?”

  Did he do something? Did he do something? Oh, only made the most romantic gesture Gigi had ever seen on film. And Gigi had seen a lot of rom coms. God, Brock’s cluelessness was adorable sometimes.

  Gigi spun around on him. “Why didn’t you tell me about that scene in the documentary? The one where you asked my friends for help?”

  Brock’s shoulders rose. “Um. Yeah. That was super embarrassing, so I kind of just decided to forget about it. I, uh, didn’t really think that one through.”

  Gigi took Brock’s face in his hands. “Sweetie. No one’s ever done that for me before. That was amazing. You totally blow my mind, you know that?”

  Brock smiled, a tiny little ray of sunshine in the autumn night cupped in Gigi’s palms.

  Something bubbled up in Gigi, burst into a warm, searing heat, and he leaned forward and kissed Brock. “I am so fucking in love with you.”

  Brock’s eyes widened, and his hands gripped Gigi’s waist. “You are?”

  He was. He really was. It wasn’t even the stupid documentary or how sweet Brock had been since they hooked up or the weirdly messy tangle of feelings Gigi had always had for him (well, strictly speaking that Toby had had for him, but that was ancient history now). It was that Brock was completely, absolutely into him, and had been since the beginning.

  That just screwed with Gigi’s head in all the right ways. That never happened to him. Or to guys like him. The swishy femmy ones who wore sparkly things and spoke too much.

  “Yeah,” Gigi said. “I am.”

  “Me too. I love you too.”

  No shit he did. It was kind of obvious by now. But hearing it still made that messy tangle of feelings loosen and settle down just a little. A warm glow in Gigi’s chest matched the one in another, lower part of his body. His (thinking) head was so pleasantly screwed now that the rest of his body needed in on the action.

  Gigi drew him closer. “Do you understand now why I need to get you home?”

  Brock’s head bobbed up and down. “Hell yeah. Let’s go.”

  Once at Gigi’s house, Gigi barely paused to lock the door, he was so focused on getting Brock to his bedroom and pulling all his clothes off. They stopped to kiss in the hallway, Brock slamming Gigi against the wall between pictures of Gigi as the drag queen Gigi LaMore, all bedecked in glitter and feathers and eyelashes. Gigi had put them there deliberately to test the people who visited him and his roommate; the first time Brock had seen them, he’d touched one and told Gigi she looked beautiful.

  Such a keeper.

  Gigi pressed himself against Brock, needing to feel that solid body along his. Hands dug behind him to cup his ass, Brock’s tongue flickered along his lips, and Gigi groaned as Brock rubbed his groin into Gigi’s. So, so good.

  “Bedroom,” he muttered against Brock’s mouth.

  Brock lifted him with a heave, and Gigi wrapped his legs around Brock’s hips, kissing him hard. Brock staggered them both into Gigi’s room and clumsily kicked the door shut with one foot. Then Gigi was pushed up against the door, Brock ravaging his neck as his hands dove under Gigi’s shirt.

  After that, it was a frenzied mess of hands under clothes and murmured instructions that somehow resulted in them on the bed and semi-undressed, touching each other as though there wasn’t enough time to spare for unnecessary problems like ties and socks.

  “You feel so amazing,” Brock breathed against his neck before sucking.

  Gigi tugged at Brock’s shirt, wanting it off. Brock leaned back enough for him to do that and pull off Gigi’s, then returned to attacking Gigi’s neck. Ugh. Gigi could barely think when he did that. His body felt like it was consumed in flames, Brock’s hands were so hot, and Gigi was so desperate. He pushed his head back into his duvet and let go, finally coming into the perfect heat of Brock’s mouth minutes later, stars exploding behind his eyelids.

  Brock finished a moment afterwards, shuddering against Gigi’s chest, eyes closed an
d face screwed in an expression of total abandon. Gigi drew him close with jelly arms, sleep clouding the edges of his mind. Brock still breathed fast and heavy, and when he finally opened his eyes, they held a sated, happy expression that twisted something deep in Gigi. He’d never expected to be the reason for someone to look like that. Had anyone ever gazed at him with that much emotion before? He didn’t think so. He had also never thought he’d see that from Brock, not after what had happened between them at high school. If he was honest, it was bringing out some Toby in him. He wanted to pet Brock and keep him around, naked and wearing that look for, like, ever. It was too much. Too big. But somehow, also perfect.

  And so not cool. He’d left all this sappy shit behind with his teens and his virginity. Hadn’t he? Thankfully, sleep dragged him down before he could think too much about that.

  Brock watched him sleep, mind churning over this evening.

  He hadn’t expected Gigi to be impressed by that scene. Fuck, it had been embarrassing. But embarrassing was what got him on a date with Gi in the first place, so maybe it was a pattern that more embarrassment got him a declaration of love.

  Gigi Rosenberg loved him.

  Him.

  This was possibly the best day of his life. He relived that moment when Gigi had grabbed him and said it, then rolled onto his back and let himself have a little swoon. Oh God. What had happened to him? How could anyone deal with this much happiness?

  Evidently by napping, then waking up for another round. Somehow everything was more intense tonight, more real and focused. The sweet breathy sounds Gigi made when he was turned on, the rub of their bodies and the urgency with which they moved against each other—it all melded together with Brock’s feelings into something like a natural high, something he could barely express in words or in touching Gigi.

  Actually, it kind of reminded him of being sixteen again. Even though back then he’d been tongue-tied every time he tried to speak to Toby in between stolen kisses, Toby had still known what he meant. The connection they’d had, the understanding and silent communication, all of that was back.