Page 76 of Backward Motion
“Let’s get it over with,” he said, nuzzling against Connor’s neck as if some of the man’s unflappable calm might transmit to him on contact. “I won’t be the best company until it’s done.”
Connor bent his head to pepper Sam’s face with kisses. “I can come with you if you’ve changed your mind.”
Sam’s stomach clenched in fear. There was no way the two of them could meet. He wouldn’t do that to Connor—stand by while Felix spewed a series of hateful observations about Sam’s choice in men or his inability to fend for himself. Or worse—dredged up all the horrible, embarrassing things Sam had subjected himself to in his misplaced devotion to his ex.
“No,” he said quickly, releasing Connor and fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater. “I’ll be fine, really.”
Connor studied him closely but didn’t press further. Instead, he pulled open the passenger door for Sam, and they both got back in the van. Then he drove out of the storage lot and headed south on the interstate toward downtown.
Felix lived in a one-bedroom apartment near Zilker Park. It was on a quiet, tree-lined street in the same neighborhood as Barton Springs Pool. There was no way he could afford market rent on his curator salary, but he’d taken it over from a friend—readlover—and kept the discounted rate. Sam had spent a lot of time at Felix’s apartment, playing house. He’d learned his lesson from the book and only left things behind that demonstrated what a refined and cultured boyfriend he was: a designer leather jacket, his prized DSLR, a signed print from a semifamous street artist Felix had introduced him to.
When everything fell apart and Sam found himself unable to leave his apartment, he tried to contact Felix for help. But his boyfriend had been full of excuses and never showed. While they were together, Sam had felt the need to hide his less-desirable traits from Felix—his neediness, his anxiety, his struggles to cope with life’s setbacks—and as it turned out, that instinct was justified. The slightesthint of desperation had spooked Felix and sent him running for the hills.
After the excuses dried up, Felix simply ghosted him. Sam had lain in bed, staring at his silent phone as his mind fell to pieces, and wondered if he’d made up the entire relationship.Were we ever really together? Did Felix even like me?Showing up and taking back what was his was a way for Sam to acknowledge that it had happened. That he hadn’t just imagined it.
A week after returning to Oakdale with his parents, Sam had gotten a text from Felix—noncommittal and casual—asking him what he was up to that weekend. Sam didn’t reply. And that was the last he’d heard from him.
Sam stared up at the apartment building through the windshield of the van parked outside on the street. Beside him, Connor rested his hands on the wheel. “So, I’ll wait here?”
“Yup,” Sam said, forcing a brightness into his voice. “I shouldn’t be long.” He opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, surprised when Connor joined him, reaching above his head to stretch his arms. “You look like you’re ready to clock someone,” Sam remarked.
“Just getting the blood flowing. It’s been a long drive.”
But Sam knew better. Perhaps out here, Connor felt more able to jump to Sam’s aid than sitting in the van.
“Thank you,” Sam said softly. “And don’t worry—I’ll be right back.”
He turned and walked toward the building. He wanted to glance back and give Connor a reassuring smile but decided against it. He was afraid his face would betray his fear. It was best to press ahead and do what he needed to do. He snuck behind someone to get into the lobby and scaled the stairs to the second floor. Walking down the familiar hallway, Sam thought of all the times he and Felix hadwalked it together. All the parties Felix had hosted here, all the people Sam had met.
Sam stopped outside number 206 and brought his fist to the door with a sharp knock. It took a moment before he heard the faint slap of footsteps, and then the door opened, and there stood Felix, shirt unbuttoned to reveal his smooth, hairless chest, baggy sweats sitting low on his hips. Felix did a double take, then his face broke into a grin, and he pulled Sam into a hug.
“Samuel! Where have you been hiding?”
Sam blinked, unsure how to answer the question. But Felix didn’t seem interested in a reply. He ushered Sam into the apartment and closed the door behind him. The balcony was open, letting in a gentle breeze that rustled the curtains by the window.
“Want a drink?” Felix stepped over to the fridge and pulled out a green bottle of Topo Chico. “Was it you who got me into lime?” he asked, cracking open the lid and taking a generous sip. “Now I’m hooked.”
“Ah...” Sam felt like his life had entered another dimension while Felix had continued on his regular trajectory. “Actually, I’m here for my stuff. I loaned you my camera and a bunch of clothes. Figured it was about time I came to pick them up.”
Felix looked at him, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Sure, whatever. Have a look around; see what you can find. I’m sure it’s all here somewhere.”
“Thanks.” Sam walked over to the large shelving unit against the wall and scanned the cubed compartments to see if any of the objects on display looked familiar. He spotted his signed print sticking out between two slim volumes of poetry and tugged it down.
“God, it’s been a minute,” Felix said, watching him. “You look good.”
Sam didn’t bother to stifle his snort.
“What?” Felix retorted, his voice hardening. “Are you pissed or something? I mean, you were the one who just disappeared.”
Sam whirled around and glared at Felix in disbelief. “I didn’t disappear.”
Felix shrugged. “It’s not like you bothered to tell me where you were going.”
Sam gritted his teeth. “I called you over and over. I must have sent a dozen messages. I needed you. You were the one who disappeared.”
“We had back-to-back exhibitions, and then there was Jean McLeary’s solo show,” Felix said, sounding almost offended. “There was no way I could get time off work to hold your hand while you had another of your freak-outs.”
“My freak-outs?” Sam echoed.
