Page 138 of Checking Out the Librarian

“I’m not drunk.”

“You so fucking are.” Connor glanced over Tony’s shoulder to the curb, where there was a nondescript white car parked at an angle. “You drove here? Like this?”

Tony quit bothering to try holding himself together or presenting a sober face. “Wanted to shee you. Got here early but had to, had to…” His voice trailed off.

“Had to go sit in a bar? Fuck you. You could have killed someone. Or at least that career you’re so in love with.”

As soon as the words flew out, he knew he shouldn’t have said them, either. Even Tony wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t figure out that the bitterness behind Connor’s words was some sort of an opening, an indication that Connor still had feelings, even if they were only flavors of anger.

Tony looked at him with a yearning that, pre-Jonathan, would have made Connor feel special and spackled over the empty nights and hookup apps that littered the time between visits.

Now that look made Connor even sadder and angrier. Being yourself openly no more than a couple times a year, and even keeping that a secret, hadn’t been enough for him, not at eighteen and not eight years later.

It shouldn’t have to be enough for anyone, not even a jerk like Tony.

“Don’t make me go.” He leaned forward, almost into the doorway gap.

Connor could smell beer sweat, as if he’d been drinking heavily last night, too. This wasn’t the way to succeed.

Tony fell into mumbling, but he was close enough for Connor to hear every word. “I don’t have anyone. Don’t make me—don’t tell me⁠—”

He opened his mouth and took a breath. Everything he’d done since the doorbell rang, everything he was about to do, was a mistake. He should have hidden at Jonathan’s all week. As soon as he glanced through the door glass, he should have turned his back and walked away. And he one thousand percent shouldn’t say another word.

“I’ll make you a sandwich and coffee.” He watched his own hand open the door wider and expected ominous cello music to signal his mistake, like it was one of Jonathan’s old movies. “When you’re safe to drive, you’re out of here.”

Inside the door, Tony bent down.

“Hey Ribby, how ya doing?” He reached for the dog’s ears but misjudged and pushed his hand into Ribby’s nose instead.

Ribby yelped.

Connor reached out to steady Tony and his hands wrapped around the catcher’s rock-solid arm. He felt the other man’s weight, so much exhausting mass. It came with a flash of the old times, how Tony had always been so desperate when he showed up here, pushing him into the living room or up the stairs nearly as soon as the door closed.

Connor’s stomach lurched. Having this man inside his house was so wrong.

He dropped his hand, and Tony paused for a moment to orient himself without Connor’s support.

Definitely fucking wasted.

“Kitchen.” He jerked his head and turned, letting Tony follow or not. He wasn’t going to get more attention from Connor than the safety of the public required.

By the time Tony pulled out a kitchen chair and straddled it wide-legged, the way he liked to, Connor had opened the refrigerator door. It felt like a barrier between himself and that Tony’s hunger. He no longer looked as drunk as the guy who had been swaying on the porch and nearly tripped petting Ribby.

Connor needed to talk, to fill this space and get out from under that yearning stare that made him feel nauseous. He didn’t want anyone but Jonathan to want him like that. “I have ham and cheese. That work?”

“I’ll take anything.”

“Ham and cheese is all I’m offering.” He heard Jonathan’s intonations color his own voice and hoped his expression didn’t reveal the tiny flicker inside his chest. Everything about Jonathan, even his own memories, needed to be kept securely away from being tainted by Tony.

He assembled the ingredients in silence, the only sound a whine from Ribby, as if Connor didn’t know that his dog really liked both ham and cheese.

He turned and Tony was standing right there, not sitting on the chair.

Too close, grabbing his arms, dragging him even closer.

“I have a boyfriend. Stop. I told you I⁠—”

He tried to push the plate into Tony’s stomach, but it flipped up and Tony mashed his lips into Connor’s and stuck his tongue in Connor’s mouth before he could finish his sentence.