Second Hand: A Tucker Springs Novel 2

us. “Us. Being together. Like we were last night.”
El raised an eyebrow at me. “Why?”
I swallowed hard. “I just . . . I still have a hard time believing it, I guess. That you would . . . want me.” That anybody would, but I wouldn’t be pathetic and admit that.
“That seems to be a theme with you, not knowing people want you—in lots of ways.” He cocked his head to the side. “I wonder how many people have tried to get your attention, only to wander off in despair of ever achieving it.”
The thought startled me, and I endured a few terrible moments of combing through my memories, wondering where he might have been right, wondering how I’d ever find out.
He chuckled. “They just have no staying power, in my opinion. Anyway, their loss is my gain.”
I looked at him levelly. “Because you want me.” I felt silly saying it out loud, but somehow, the moment seemed to call for reassurance.
He leaned in close, drawing my earlobe into his mouth before whispering, “Yes.”
I was dizzier now, but in a very good way. “So that means you want to . . .”
He chuckled and nuzzled my ear again. “Take you to bed? Yeah, Paul. I do.” The kiss he placed on my temple was so light it made my stomach fill with butterflies. “Would that be okay with you?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
I thought he would laugh again, but he didn’t. Instead, he put his hand on my thigh and squeezed. “Would you like to go to bed with me right now?”
“Yes,” I said quickly, eagerly, and the next thing I knew, I’d been lifted to my feet, and I followed El as he led me inside by the hand.
I glanced at Lorraine again as El let go of me to rescue MoJo, and I kept my eye on her as we rounded the corner to the front door. She had a very odd look on her face, and I felt my face heat as I realized what she’d seen.
It dawned on me that being with El in any way at all truly would mean I’d be telling everyone I was gay. Not just Nick, but my neighbors and everyone. Random people who saw us kissing or smiling at each other. People in the supermarket, maybe. My mom—if not this week, then eventually.
I’d have to tell Stacey.
I didn’t know what to think about this. I didn’t want to think about this, but something told me there was no way El would keep us as a secret. Or if he would, he wouldn’t like it, which would almost be worse. Thinking about announcing it, though, made it all so real, breaking the chipmunk out of his paralysis to ask me how I knew I really was gay, or whatever, how I didn’t know this wasn’t some kind of hallucination and I’d come out as gay but then not be gay later and wouldn’t that be a mess?
And what if Stacey came back again, this time for good?
El’s fingers teased my wrist, and I remembered all the things we’d done the night before, that we were about to do all over again and maybe more. I remembered that I didn’t want Stacey anymore, even if she wanted me. I stopped wondering about whether or not I was really gay, and I forgot, at least for the moment, that I was supposed to care.

chapter 23
    A
    s El followed Paul inside, he thought about the pensiveness he’d seen on his lover’s face and acknowledged they were in a kind of honeymoon phase, a happy little bubble before the other shoe fell and reality set in. Even if Paul wasn’t voicing his concerns out loud, Paul’s lack of a poker face was on par with his obliviousness about who was interested in him. As Denver would say, Strawberry Shortcake hadn’t even begun to grapple with the complexities of coming out. El would lay even odds that Paul was deep in the “maybe it’s a mistake and I’m confused, not gay” stage. He didn’t want to think about Paul being bi, which was probably unfair, but man, he wanted to hear Paul say, “Stacey was a mistake. I only want you.” Which could happen either way, but boy it would feel good to give the woman that kind of kick in the teeth.
    Okay, so he was an asshole on that count. Bi, gay— whatever way Paul went, he had quite a road ahead of him.
El thought about telling his own coming-out story: how he knew in high school but kept it on the down-low until he’d graduated, how he’d sweated bullets over telling his family, how they’d cried when he had. That left him feeling far too vulnerable, though, so he considered offering up the tale of losing his virginity, of the terrifying and wonderful experience of being pinned down on a hotel bed by a biker daddy. He thought about