Bullheaded

wondering if Johnny was doing his own version of grooming for him.
    He had gone out to locate the bar earlier that day so he wouldn’t have to ask anyone for directions. At least it wasn’t close to the arena where Johnny was working, so it was unlikely any cowboys they knew would stumble in by accident after the event.
    Cody wished he’d thought to ask Johnny to meet him for dinner somewhere. He hated eating alone, and it would have been quieter. They could have talked this thing out, gotten it settled, so at the end of the night Johnny would have been his again and come home where he belonged.
    “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. It was that kind of thinking that had gotten him to this point, having to go to Johnny with his hat in his hand, asking for a favor. He was used to going after what he wanted. Direct. Forceful. Masterful. He wasn’t very subtle, he guessed, and that made him all the more fearful he was going to fuck up royally without knowing it.
    Anxiety drove him out of his hotel room to walk the streets of Yakima. He bought a hot dog from a food truck and ate it standing up. He worried about the onions, so he bought some breath mints. He looked at people without seeing them and checked his watch forty times an hour, waiting for the right time to head over to the bar. Maybe he was hoping to wear himself out so he would be calmer when he saw Johnny.
    At last it was time. He had to force himself to walk slowly so he wouldn’t get there too early. Didn’t want to betray how eager he was. He avoided admitting to himself that he didn’t want to give Johnny that power, because then he would have to admit Johnny already had all the power. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to.
    As he approached the bar, all his senses were heightened like a skittish bull in the chute. The cooler night breeze caressed his skin, and he shied away from looking at the more obvious gay men heading in the same direction, not wanting to meet their glances. The metal handle of the door was cold under his hand.
    He pushed his way in, not liking the cigarette smoke but glad of the cover it provided as he stood looking around in the dim light.
    And then he saw Johnny. It was like the rush Cody got when the gate opened and he felt the bull gather his muscles under him. The sound of music and men talking faded away; the crowd lost itself in a blur. Only Johnny stood out for him, as if some angel were pouring gold light down over him. Beautiful.
    Then Johnny looked up and their gazes met in one of those moments of silent communication where breathing stops, pupils dilate in widened eyes, lips part in unspoken desire. I want you. Cody felt as if he could hear Johnny saying it, felt as if he said it aloud himself. In fact, he might have. He wasn’t sure.
    Without seeing the crowd of men dancing, he pushed his way to the table where Johnny sat. After all his worrying about how he looked, he had no idea what Johnny was wearing. Just seeing his face and his eyes was enough, and how his black hair shone under the lights like the coat of a glossy horse. Cody wanted to pet him, but knew he couldn’t assume anything. Maybe Johnny wouldn’t want it.
    A good-looking man came up to the table, obviously coming after Johnny, and Cody felt a snarl on his lips as he glared at the man. The man noticed him and lifted his hands as if in surrender and walked away.
    Johnny smiled at Cody.
    “Want to dance?” Cody managed to croak.
    Johnny’s face was astonished but delighted when he stood up, practically floating into Cody’s arms.
    Cody didn’t know whether this was for him or for Johnny. He’d had sex in the most public of ways when he was a teenager, letting men watch, watching other men in restrooms and movie theatres and adult stores. But he’d never held a man in his arms in a public place simply to dance to music.
    Cody circled his arms around Johnny’s slender frame and they started to move. It had been so long since he’d held Johnny, it was sublime to simply place his hand on his back, feel the warmth and movement of his muscles under his shirt. Cody could smell Johnny, a scent familiar and filled with memories of sex and laughter and times when they were so tired they fell asleep curled up in each other’s arms after only sweet kisses.
    He didn’t know if it was him trembling or Johnny, or if they both were. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he instantly recognized the metaphor that dancing was for sex. Two bodies pressed