Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

supposed it was because his eye was instantly drawn to a familiar face. It was probably the same familiarity that made him sigh whenever he saw Riley smile over the body of his violin, even though the other musicians looked solemn for most of the night.
    Paul whispered to him, "Which one's your friend?"
    "In the violins, third from the end," West whispered back.
    "Oh... the really cute one."
    "Yup," said West. "The really cute one." The true wonder about Riley, West thought, wasn't his musical abilities, even though it was pretty amazing that he could pick up any instrument and make it his own. No, the true wonder about Riley was that, despite bullying and abuse, Riley could still smile like that, with his deep dimples and dark, shining eyes. There was nothing false or practiced about it. Riley still smiled like Riley.
    At intermission, most of the musicians came out to the lobby. Riley found West quickly and hugged him, one arm around his shoulders. "I'm so glad you came!"
    "Me too," West said and hugged him back. "I haven't been to the symphony since the last time my parents dragged me to it." Paul smiled expectantly, and West said, "Paul, this is Riley, my friend from way back."
    They shook hands, Riley taking his arm from West's shoulders, and Paul said, "How long ago was way back?"
    "First day of junior high," Riley said. "Fourteen years, almost."
    "We were kind of inseparable then," West added.
    "I slept at his house whenever things weren't so good at home," Riley said. "Which was a lot."
    "And he chased off bullies for me."
    "I was happy to do it," Riley said, looking at West, and West hoped he wasn't blushing. "Hey," Riley said abruptly, "how's your neck?"
    "It's a little sore." West rubbed the back of his neck. "But it's nothing I can't handle. Aspirin is keeping it under control." He explained to Paul, "I got rear-ended the other day. Riley was in the car in front of me."
    "You didn't tell me that," Paul said.
    "It was nothing, really. My car's fine and my neck will heal."
    "Westie barely bumped me," said Riley, sounding proud. "I'm glad you're feeling okay." Riley hugged West again, more gently than before, and shook Paul's hand. "I need to say hello to a few other people. I'm really glad you came." They all said good night and West watched Riley move on through the crowd, charming everyone with his smile.
    Paul was quiet when they went back to their seats, and though he applauded like everyone else he didn't seem to pay much attention to the music. He went home with West after the performance, and after they had kissed some West pulled away.
    "Sorry," he said. "I hurt more than I realized."
    Paul gently rubbed the back of his neck and West closed his eyes. "Does this help?"
    "A little," West said, though it felt more like pinching than relief. He closed his eyes and relaxed against Paul's body. "Thanks."
    Paul said, "You and Riley— you were pretty close as kids."
    "I suppose so."
    "You've still got a thing for him," Paul said and West opened his eyes.
    "Every gay man I know has a story like that. The beautiful best friend they can never quite let go."
    "Most of us don't get a second chance." Paul removed his hand and kissed West's forehead. "I'll see you around."
    "It's not a second chance," West said but Paul had already shut the door.
    ****
    Riley moved in on the first of the month, and West alternated between being overjoyed with having his old friend close by again and wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into. Riley wasn't hard to live with— he was as easy-going as ever, as funny and as comfortable, so it wasn't like living with a stranger. The familiarity itself was the problem. Riley thought nothing of stretching behind West to get something down from a shelf while West was preparing dinner, or letting their feet tangle together when they were both reading on the couch, and he was in the apartment only two days before he knocked on West's door and said, "Hey, have you got a few minutes?" before lying down on the bed with West so they could talk. He wanted to know about Paul, how they'd met and how long they'd been dating, and if West thought it was a good idea to pursue one of the flautists in the symphony or if dating a co-worker was as bad an idea as everyone said.
    "Bad idea," said West, and told himself he'd say the same thing to anyone.
    It was hard not to touch him when Riley was so easy with his own hands, but West was certain that the ease would disappear if Riley thought for a