Coda 03 -The Letter Z

trying to make him relax again. “We shouldn’t have gone to the club.”
    “Of course I was right,” he said, but the edge was gone from his voice. He elbowed me playfully in the ribs. “Say it again.”
    I laughed, and slid my hand off of his arm and across his stomach. “You were right,” I said quietly into his ear, and he smiled. “You know what else?”
    “What?”
“If I ever see you dancing like that with another guy, I’ll go nuts.” “If you ever see me dancing , you’ll know I’m way beyond drunk and
    it’s time to take me home.” For a few minutes we just lay there, silent and content. I let my hand wander over him. I knew every inch of him by heart: the exact texture of his skin, the smooth flat plane of his stomach, the curve of his hip, the hard muscles on his thighs. My fingers traced familiar paths through his freckles, over contours I had memorized long ago. He sighed as he relaxed against me. “Will they be okay?” he asked quietly.
    “They better be.”
“Why?”
“Because if they’re not, it’s going to be one bitch of a drive home.”

…Angelo
    I STAY out another two hours. I don’t leave that spot in front of the Bellagio, though. I know what Matt was thinkin’, but I’m not lookin’ to score. The last thing I want is to screw things up more.
    Despite what Matt said, I know Jonathan was right. What the fuck do I have to offer Zach? The rest of ’em, they all have degrees. They all have real jobs. I don’t even have a fuckin’ high school diploma. I’ll spend the rest of my life workin’ for Zach, or baggin’ groceries. Just like Jonathan said.
    And the part ’bout me bein’ an easy lay—that was true once too. It’s been a few years, but I know what I am. I know what I been. Sex was the only thing anybody ever wanted me for, ’til Zach. I try to tell myself now that I’ve changed, just ’cause I have Zach, and Matt, and even Jared. But is it true? I don’t know the answer.
    I know I should go back. I know Zach’ll be worried sick. I just gotta get my bearings again. I stand there watchin’ the fountains ’til I finally decide I can face him again.
    I can tell as soon as I walk in the door Zach’s been pacin’ the room the entire time. The look of relief on his face makes me feel even worse. Wish he could be pissed at me. Make this all easier if we could scream and yell at each other and then fall to the floor and fuck each other’s brains out. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?
    He crosses the room and wraps his arms ’round me before I even get two steps into the room.
    “I’m so sorry, Ang.”
“I’m sorry too.”
“I didn’t want that to happen.”
“Can’t stand to see him touch you, Zach.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“You pissed ’bout me dancin’?”
“Not at all.”
“Doesn’t mean anything, Zach. I was just foolin’ ’round.” “I know. It’s my fault. If Jonathan hadn’t kissed me—” “I’ll fuckin’ kill him if he touches you again.”
“He won’t.”
“I’m sorry I was gone so long.”
“I knew you needed to be alone.”
“Zach?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
    He hesitates for a second, which he’s never done before. I wonder if it’s ’cause he thinks we should talk more or ’cause he really is pissed or ’cause he’s thinkin’ ’bout Jonathan. But then he takes my face in his hands, and his lips find mine. His tongue slides over my bottom lip, like it always does, and it still turns me on every time.
    We get undressed, and I push him backward onto the bed and climb on top of him. “Tell me what you want, Zach,” I say.

    He looks up at me, and I can tell it bothers him. Usually, he’s the one sayin’ that to me.

    “I just want you, Ang,” he says in confusion.
    He still doesn’t understand. I kiss his chest, flick my tongue over his nipple. He’s obviously turned on, but he’s still hesitant. “I’ll do anything you want, Zach,” I whisper. “Just tell me what.”
    He goes stiff at that—not in a good way—and I know I’m doin’ somethin’ wrong, but I still don’t know what. “Why, Angelo?” he asks. “’Cause he’s right, Zach. It’s the only thing I have to give you. At least let me do it right.”
    There’s a flash of somethin’ on his face—anger or betrayal or shame—and then before I know what’s goin’ on, he pushes me off of him, hard enough that I almost fall off the bed. I’ve never seen him so mad. He doesn’t say a word,