Covet Thy Neighbor

empty silence on the other end of the phone line still rang in my ears.
    I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. Of all the Scripture he could have chosen, he’d picked those two. Of course there’d been dozens of verses thrown around during that long, hellish phone call, any one of which would have stung. But that last one in particular cut straight to the bone.
    A sick feeling settled over me, bringing cold sweat to surface above my collar. The venom and disgust from my parents and pastor—all in the name of love and salvation, they’d said—still burned under my skin like it had from the moment I’d whispered the words that had turned my life on its ass:
    “ Mom, I’m gay. ”
    And somewhere in the thick of things, in the heat of a shouting match over my soul and sexuality, I’d let it slip I was also an atheist.
    Apostate. Abomination. Enemy .
    What they called love . . . wasn’t. They hated too much about me to love me. And all because of their interpretation of the Bible, and their beliefs about what God wanted.
    I slowly turned my head toward the shared wall between my apartment and Darren’s. He wasn’t like them. He wore his faith on his sleeve and now on his skin, but I’d never heard a judgmental word slip past his lips. He accepted his own imperfections. He’d smoked with the sinner like Jesus had hung out with the whores.
    He was the epitome of a Christian. And the Scripture I’d written on his back was the very foundation of the type of Christianity that wouldn’t have cast me out. Maybe that meant it wasn’t fair to put every Christian in the same column. I couldn’t really lump them all together when the ones who’d hurt me weren’t even playing by their own damned rules.
    More than that, religious beliefs aside, everything within those two verses and everything I’d seen and heard in the time I’d spent with Darren boiled down to the kind of human being I wanted in my life. The kind of person I could . . .
    I swallowed hard and raked my fingers through my hair.
    He was the kind of human being I could fall in love with.
    And that scared the hell out of me.

At eight o’clock sharp on Monday morning, Darren knocked on my front door.
    “Ready to go?” he asked when I opened it.
    “Just about. Come on in.” As I shut the door behind him, I said, “Just throwing a few things into a backpack, and I need to feed the cat, and put on my boots. Then I’m ready to roll.”
    “Speaking of which, will these work?” He pointed at his tennis shoes. “I don’t have hiking boots.”
    “We’re not going to be on a terribly technical trail today,” I said. “As long as they’re comfortable for walking for a few hours.”
    “They’re fine for that.”
    “Then they should work. If you want to hit up some of the harder trails, I highly recommend coughing up some money for a solid pair of hiking boots.”
    “Like those?” He nodded toward the pair sitting next to my coffee table.
    “Exactly.” I sat on the couch and picked up one of the boots. “They’re worth the money, believe me.”
    “I’m sure. A rolled ankle isn’t fun even on a flat trail.”
    “Yeah, well”—I pulled on the boot—“you haven’t lived until you’ve half-carried someone down a mountain with a sprain.”
    He wrinkled his nose. “I’ll pass.”
    I laughed. “You’re not going to carry me down the mountain if I hurt myself?”
    “Nope.” He gestured at my boots again. “So, lace those up good, and watch your step.”
    “Hmph.” I pulled on my other boot. “See if I call Search and Rescue when you’re the one with a jacked-up foot.”
    Darren rolled his eyes and huffed. “Jeez, Seth. I just said I wouldn’t carry you down the mountain. Not calling Search and Rescue?” Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. “That’s just cold.”
    “Damn right.” I paused. “By the way, how’s that tattoo healing?”
    He shifted a little like the tattoo was suddenly irritating him. “Still hurts a little. Starting to itch, though.”
    “Yeah, that’ll happen.”
    “It’s not bad. Definitely not as bad as the first night.”
    “I would hope not.” I paused. “Oh, I almost forgot. I made some sandwiches and got a few bottles of water.” As I laced up my boot, I nodded toward the kitchen. “Would you mind grabbing them out of the fridge?”
    “Sure.” He took a step, but paused. “Oh, hello.”
    I turned my head, and laughed when I saw Stanley sitting in the middle of the