Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

hour, if they were the wrong ten miles. He made it sound amusing, watching Josh's face.
    "I haven't forgotten," Josh said. "Remember the time the school had that field trip to the MOCA and the bus got so stuck in traffic they had to give it up? Not that any of us was devastated that we didn't get to spend the day with contemporary art."
    "I remember." Three hours stuck on the bus, slouched in the seat next to Josh, vividly aware of their bare sweaty thighs side-by-side on the sticky vinyl... all his memories seemed to be filtered though a haze of Josh. It was a fucked up kind of pain and pleasure to hear them dragged to light in this new deeper Josh-voice. He shifted restlessly.
    "Hey, want to see the upstairs floors I refinished? That was a hell of a job." No more reminiscing.
    Trey liked his place. It was just a rental, but the landlord was easygoing and after three years Trey had it pretty much fixed up, with colorful walls, the stained carpet taken up to expose wood floors that he'd finished on his own time, the heavy drapes replaced with light fabric shades. Trey skipped the bedroom. Not only didn't he want Josh standing next to his bed, but the pictures on the walls, although artistic, would leave no need to verbally come out of the closet.
    They ended up in the front entry. Now that Josh was thinking about leaving, Trey suddenly desperately wanted to prolong the visit. He said, "How about dinner? It's past four now. Do you want to stick around for an hour or two, maybe go to Grady's Bar and Grill?" Josh had loved Grady's BBQ ribs, back when he lived here. It had been a rare treat, since they'd been too young to set foot in the place. Sometimes Trey's dad had brought some home for takeout.
    Josh looked tempted but then shook his head. "I shouldn't. I haven't been to Aunt Julie's new place since they bought it. I'd really rather make the drive in the daylight."
    "Okay." It was for the best. Really it was.
    Josh looked at Trey for a minute, his eyes dark and a little sad. "So can I maybe stop by when the week's over? See you before I hop back on the plane and go home?"
    Christ. A sad Josh just hit Trey where he lived, even after all this time. Trey wanted to hug him and didn't dare. "Of course. I'd be sorry if you didn't. You know I'd like to help you out with your aunt and uncle's place. I just can't."
    "It's okay. No worries." He held out a hand.
    Trey took it slowly. He was freaking shaking hands with Josh, like they were business acquaintances. He let go of their grip and stepped back.
    "Come on out next weekend, maybe, if you want to see the store." Josh gave Trey a wry smile. "And the goats and the Josh-eating pony. You're welcome any time. It's only a couple of hours away. I'll email you directions."
    And then he was gone.
    Trey wandered back into the suddenly-empty kitchen. Damn the man. How dare Josh come walking back into his life with his grin and his energy, and the familiar smell of his skin when Trey hugged him, and the way he moved so balanced and easy... How dare he drop by for one measly hour and suddenly make the rest of Trey's life feel pointless and empty?
    Trey picked the empty plate and the beer bottles off the table and stuck them in the sink. There were still a dozen cookies on the tray.
    He'd eaten five of them, standing and staring out the kitchen window, before he realized what he was doing. Shit. He got a Tupperware and put the rest away before he could finish the lot. Unlike Josh, he had to work to keep the weight off. He was proud of his body and he wasn't going to mess that up just because...
    Exercise. Exercise would be good.
    ****
    Josh drove about three blocks from Trey's condo before he pulled over into the parking lot of a 7-Eleven. He sat there, staring blankly out of the windshield. That had gone nothing like the reunion he'd expected. And yet, why the hell was he so surprised? Sure, he and Trey had never completely lost touch. They'd kept up an email correspondence since Josh's family had left town in junior year of high school. But over time the phone calls and the IMs had dwindled. In college they'd only touched base every few days or so, and since then there had been gaps of a week or more, especially when Trey was traveling. And lately their emails had become superficial, a note about a screw-up on the job or a bitch about the weather. How the hell had he not noticed that he and Trey had descended to discussing dew points?
    Josh had somehow kept this illusion in his