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Author's Chapter Notes:

Justin continues to settle into his new life with Ethan... :/ TAG


Chapter 9 - Adjustments.



Have you ever noticed that, very often, those who come across as incredibly strong, extroverted, confident, and dominant, are actually quite insecure? It seems to be particularly true of those that profess their own superiority the loudest and most vociferously. I wonder if there’s some kind of inverse statistical correlation between how much a person brags about themselves and how seriously insecure they are? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just my personal experience talking. But, regardless, that’s always seemed to be the case for the men in my own life.


Because these types are so incredibly insecure, they’ll never admit this to you or even to themselves, however this internal insecurity is always reflected in a person’s outward behaviors. They may not acknowledge their self-doubt, but their actions always give them away. Perhaps not at first - at first all you see is the braggadociousness, the self-appointed expert, the charmer who lures you in with his wiles. It’s not till much, much later that you start to see the flaws in the perfect exterior.


The narcissist secretly knows, or at least suspects, his own flaws, though. So, since he isn't sure of his own worth, he generally feels compelled to bolster his perceived superiority however he can. To do this, he will often surround himself with people that clearly ARE worthy, insinuating himself in the lives of others to such an extent that he feels like there is worthiness all around him. It’s a narcissist’s way of gaining some much needed respect. It’s why narcissists tend to prey on the beautiful, the intelligent, the talented, and the deserving.


Of course even this is never really enough. Especially since surrounding oneself with the truly stellar eventually highlights the unworthiness of the narcissist himself. And his insecurity just can’t handle that comparison. He needs to be the center of attention. The most admired. The best and brightest. Better than anyone else in his sphere of influence. Which isn’t easy when others are judging you and comparing you to someone else all the time.


Hence the dichotomy between the narcissist’s need to surround themselves with perfection and yet want to be perceived as the most perfect of all.


One way to accomplish that - at least for the short term - is to make sure that there’s nobody else around to make that judgment call. He will keep his victim close to him, revelling in the status that connection imparts, but at the same time he wants to keep his partner all to himself. He wants to be the only person in his victim’s life. It makes him feel powerful. It allows him to control what his victim experiences, filter what he wants in their life, manipulate what they experience, overhear all conversations and correct them later. It also allows him to closely monitor his partner’s actions and behaviors in order to judge and discipline them.


So, is it any wonder that one of the first things people like that do, is try and separate you from your old friends and family?



Despite the uncertain start, the next few days rolled by without too much further outward drama.


I had easily landed the job with the Carnegie Hall catering service - in no small part because of Ethan’s enthusiastic reference - and had worked Sunday and Tuesday nights. I had been right that it wasn’t nearly as fun or as lucrative as working at the Liberty Diner, but at least it was a job, right? I figured it would at least tide me over till I could find something better. And Ethan seemed happy to have me around to show off to his friends in the orchestra when I met up with him after the concert.


I wasn’t so sure about Ethan’s friends, though. I did get a thrill out of the way Ethan introduced me to them; he made a point of telling everyone I was his BOYFRIEND and emphasized repeatedly that I was an extremely talented artist. That felt especially nice as Brian had rarely bothered to take me anywhere and had never introduced me to anyone important, let alone praised my art in public like that. But Ethan’s friends didn’t seem impressed. Actually, they seemed really snobbish and judgmental, but maybe that was just a bad first impression. The bottom line was that they didn’t know anything about visual arts and I didn’t really know anything about music, so there wasn’t much for us to talk about. I figured that was probably a good thing, though, because I really didn’t want to talk about Shostakovich and Locatelli anyway. Mostly I just stood around, smiling inanely, while Ethan chattered, his arm looped possessively around my waist the whole time.


Ethan’s good mood lasted well past the time we arrived home late that Sunday evening. He grumbled a little about me having moved his clothing around, claiming he couldn’t find anything the way I’d stuffed everything into the drawers so tightly, but he let it go pretty quickly. And then he took me to bed and I kept him so busy for the rest of the night that he didn’t have time to grouse any more.


Monday and Tuesday were taken up with classes for both of us so we were out of the apartment most of the day. Ethan made a point of showing up to eat lunch with me, crowing to all who would listen about how we were ‘officially’ together now. It was nice not to have to hide our relationship any longer - the whole sneaking around and kissing in doorways thing was never my style - but it was getting a bit annoying to hear Ethan bragging over and over again about how he’d ‘stolen’ me away from Brian. He made it sound like I was merely some trophy he’d won at the county fair. To hear Ethan tell it, it was almost like he’d challenged Brian to a deadly duel for my hand or something. He even made it sound like Brian was abusing me, reiterating how much better off I’d be without him. It actually got annoying enough that I had to get up and walk away at one point before I lost it.


Ethan didn’t seem fazed at all, merely trotting after me and half apologizing for bragging too much. “I can’t help it, Baby. I’m just so happy that you finally came to your senses and realized how perfect we’d be together. And I want to share my happiness with the world. Don’t be angry at me, Babe.”


I shook my head and bit back the rebuke I’d meant to levy at him, unable to dash the gleeful puppy dog exuberance I saw. “Can we please just not talk about Brian anymore?” I begged. “He wasn’t the only one at fault in our relationship; I screwed up too. But it doesn’t help to think about it all the time.”


“Sorry, Babe.” Ethan was quick to let the topic die, moving on to a discussion about the shift I was working that night for the catering service. “You want me to come by and pick you up after you’re done?”


“Why?”


“It’ll be late. I don’t want you walking home all alone at that hour,” Ethan asserted.


“Ethan . . . I’m not a child. I’m perfectly able to get myself home from work on my own. Shit, I used to work the late shift at the Diner all the time and I wouldn’t get off till after one in the morning. I always made it home fine from there.”


“I know, but now that you’ve got me, you don’t have to do shit like that anymore. I care about you, Babe . . . unlike that loser you used to be with.” Ethan just couldn’t seem to let the comments about Brian go. “Which is why I’ll be there to pick you up after work. Okay?”


“It’s really NOT necessary, Ethan,” I maintained, trying to be as emphatic as possible without letting my annoyance show too much. “And PLEASE stop calling me ‘Babe’, okay? I hate stupid nicknames.”


“Sorry, Ba . . . Jus,” Ethan laughed at his little slip up but didn’t make a big deal about my annoyance.


And before he could try and press me again about the work thing, my phone started to buzz with an incoming call. I looked at the caller ID, sighing audibly when I saw the name Melanie Marcus on the screen. I hadn't talked to any of the gang since the afternoon I’d walked out of the Diner and I really wasn't in the mood to start now. Mel was likely to just exacerbate the annoyance that Ethan had engendered with all his smack talk about Brian. I really didn't want to listen to her condemning Brian and trying to empathize with me. Not right then. So, instead of accepting the call I tapped on the icon to ignore it and just kept walking towards the building that housed my Animation Basics class.


"Who was that?” Ethan demanded, trying to peek over my shoulder to get a glimpse of my phone.


I quickly shoved the phone into my pocket. “Nobody,” I answered.


“Nobody? If it was ‘nobody’ you wouldn't be hiding it from me,” Ethan stated, his voice edging into anger. “It’s HIM isn’t it?”


By ‘HIM’ I knew he meant Brian, but it didn’t explain why Ethan thought my former lover would bother calling me. “Brian wouldn’t call me - not after what I did to him,” I explained. “Hell, he barely even called me back when we were together, why the fuck would he be calling me now?”


“To steal you back, of course,” Ethan responded, the tone of his voice indicating I must be stupid if I didn’t get that too. “I knew that bastard wasn’t going to give up this easily.”


“Ethan . . .” I sighed, turning to face him so I could look him in the eye while I dispelled his obvious misconception. “Brian is NOT going to try and get me back. That’s not Brian. Not at all. He couldn’t give a shit what the fuck I do or who I’m with. He told me as much the night before the Rage party. He said it was my decision where I wanted to be. So you really don’t need to be worried, Ethan. Brian’s never going to chase after me.”


Ethan didn’t seem convinced by this assertion, but I was done arguing with him. And thankfully we had arrived at my classroom by that point so I had a good excuse to escape. Before he could interject another word I leaned in, gave him a kiss, and then ducked through the door of the Animation classroom, leaving him scowling in the hallway. Even better, when I was done with that class I managed to slip away from campus without another Ethan encounter - heading off to my new catering job before my musician’s Advanced Music Theory class let out - giving me at least a few hours respite from anyone nagging at me about Brian or my relationship choices.


The event that night at Carnegie Hall had been a science lecture about new advances in Genomics that I found quite intriguing. I managed to listen in to a good portion of the discussion in between my catering duties. It was a lot more interesting than the classical concert from my first night, and I figured if there were more events like this I might actually end up liking the job. Plus, since Ethan and his buddies weren’t around to usurp my attention, I actually got a chance to introduce myself to a few of my co-workers, all of whom seemed like an okay bunch. But, just about the time that a few of them offered an invitation to join them for a drink after we finished the last of the clean up, Ethan appeared at my elbow and insinuated himself into the conversation.


“You weren’t planning on going out tonight, were you, Jus?” he queried, rudely cutting off another speaker in the process. “I mean, it IS kinda late and we both have early classes. I’d think you’d be ready to head home by now, Babe.”


I caught a glimpse of Roddy, the shift manager, standing over Ethan’s shoulder and giving my boyfriend a disparaging look. I felt pretty much the same about the way Ethan was so obviously trying to manipulate my time. But we were so new, and my position in his life still felt so tenuous, that I didn’t feel bold enough to stand up to him just then. I also didn’t want to air any dispute we might have in front of my brand new co-workers. So, instead of asserting my independence and insisting on going out, I capitulated and let myself be led away from the rest of the group with only a token offer to go out with them ‘some other time’.


Having got his way, Ethan was all smiles and doting attention for the rest of the walk back to his apartment. He even insisted on carrying my bag for me like I was some 1950s darling he needed to court. If I hadn’t been so irritated by him I might have found it endearing. As it was, I found it to be a tiny bit demeaning. Like I wasn’t capable of carrying my own shit. Or walking home by myself. Or managing my own schedule and knowing when I needed to be home or whether or not it was wise to go out for a drink with friends on a school night. I mean, there was a fine line between concerned caring and smothering behavior, right?


Unfortunately, the smothering seemed to win out. As soon as we got home, Ethan was practically all over me. He dumped my bag just inside the door, pinned me to the wall in the entryway, and began kissing me voraciously as he pawed at my clothing. And, not that I wasn’t interested in a little sexual release, but I guess I was still feeling a bit feisty after his performance in front of my co-workers; I definitely wasn’t in the mood to let him control me any longer.


By the time we’d made it over to the bed, I had already determined how I wanted this particular fuck to go. Ethan tried to push me backwards onto the lumpy, old mattress, but I stepped aside, twisting around so that I could use his own momentum against him, letting him fall into the piled up bedding instead of me. The look of surprise on Ethan’s face was comical and I laughed quietly to myself as I dug around in the nightstand for a condom and the tube of KY. As soon as I found what I’d been looking for, I climbed onto the bed and crawled over so that I could straddle my lovers hips. Ethan immediately reached up to try and snatch the condom out of my hands but I raised my fist into the air high enough that he couldn’t reach it.


“Relax, Babe.” In my snarky mood, I could be forgiven if the pet name came out more like a pejorative than an endearment, right? “This one’s on me.”


Ethan broke out laughing. “Yeah, right. Hand that shit over here, bottom boy.”


“Not tonight. Tonight I’m going to treat you to a Justin Taylor special. You get to just lay back, relax, and enjoy, while I do all the work,” I explained while I tore open the condom packet and quickly sheathed myself.


But as I started to reach for the lube in order to prepare him, Ethan completely freaked out. He grabbed my wrist and squeezed hard enough that I dropped the KY tube. If his grip hadn’t been so tight it was hurting me, I might’ve actually laughed at the confused and alarmed expression on his face.


“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”


“Well, I was planning on fucking you, unless you’re no longer in the mood and want to just go straight to sleep,” I explained patiently.


“Don’t play stupid. You know what I mean,” Ethan persisted, looking down at my rubber-clad dick with disdain.


If he wanted me to spell it out, fine . . . “I’m a top, Ethan,” I insisted, which did nothing to dispel his look of utter disbelief.


“No you’re not. You can’t be.”


“I am. I know I’ve bottomed for you up to this point - mostly because it seemed like you preferred it that way - but that’s not really my nature. To be completely honest with you, I’ve always preferred to top.”


“Come on, Justin, you don’t expect me to believe that,” Ethan complained, scooting away and sitting up on the bed so he could glower at me more effectively. “There’s no way you actually topped the Stud of Liberty Avenue. Brian Kinney’s not the type to let some inexperienced twink plow his perfect little ass.”


I thought briefly about the many times I HAD topped Brian, and it was certainly tempting to trot out all those examples in order to set Ethan straight, but then I hesitated. Brian and I had always had an unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t discuss that particular topic. He’d never told me, in so many words, that I COULDN’T discuss the versatility in our unconventional relationship, but I knew, nonetheless, that Brian wouldn’t appreciate me tattling on him about his willingness to bottom for me. Besides, it was nobody’s business but ours what we had done in bed. Ethan certainly didn’t need to know about it.


“Brian’s a special case,” I equivocated without elaborating. “Other than with him, though, I’ve rarely ever bottomed. Generally speaking, I don’t like to give up that much control.”


That news apparently gave Ethan pause. Why did it surprise him so much that I wasn’t a dedicated bottom? I was actually kind of insulted. It seemed almost like he assumed I COULDN’T top. Did he think this thing between my legs was just for show? Apparently so, considering how unconvinced he still acted.


“Look, Ethan, the bottom line - no pun intended - is that I’m just more comfortable being a top. That’s who I am. And I couldn’t change who I am even if I wanted to. So, if we’re going to be together, you’re gonna have to acknowledge that and work with me. Okay?”


“So, what you’re saying is, you’ll bottom for HIM but not for me. Is that it?” Ethan growled, sounding so hurt and betrayed it was almost like I’d physically wounded him. “Well, if that’s how you feel, you can just get the fuck out. Because I’m not gonna play second chair to any man. If I’m not good enough to top you, then there’s no reason for you to stick around, is there?”


“Shit, Ethan. That’s not what I meant! I didn’t say I would NEVER bottom. And I’m not comparing you to Brian; me wanting to occasionally top has nothing to do with him . . .”


“You bottomed for HIM because you loved him, right?”


“Well, yeah, I guess . . .”


Of course he didn’t let me finish my thought. Which was probably for the best because Ethan didn’t need me explaining that the other reason I bottomed for Brian was because he was such a phenomenally amazing fucker. There was a good reason why Brian was known around town as the Stud of Liberty Avenue. Sex with Brian, regardless of whether I was on top or bottom, was always memorable. Something I couldn’t say about Ethan. My failure to explain myself fully, however, left the matter open for Ethan’s incorrect assumptions.


“But you don’t want to bottom for me. Ergo, you must not love me,” Ethan concluded, scowling at me with his arms crossed over his skinny, naked chest, his posture reminiscent of an angry five-year-old who’d been told he couldn’t have an ice cream cone, assuming, that is, that five-year-olds used pompous words like ‘ergo’.


“Ethan,” I groaned with frustration, “you know that’s not true. I wouldn’t be here, with you, if I didn’t care for you.”


“Look at you! You won’t even say it. ‘I care for you’? That’s all you’ve got? I’ve flat out said ‘I love you’ a dozen times and you’ve never once said it back. Why are you even here, Justin? Fuck this! Get the hell out . . . just get the hell out of my life!”.


Ethan jumped off the bed, stalking around the limited space in the tiny apartment, spitting these harsh words at me, his face getting more and more red as his anger mounted. Meanwhile, I was at a complete loss as to how the situation had escalated so out of control so quickly. How had me wanting to make love to my boyfriend turned into a referendum on whether or not I loved my Ex more than him? I wanted to scream. I wanted to strangle Ethan. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to storm out of there and never come back. But none of those would solve anything. Also, by that point it was after one in the morning and I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I had no choice. I had to bite back my own anger and try to placate the Raging Ravel before the situation deteriorated even more.


“Ethan. Ethan, please. ETHAN!” I finally had to shout to get his attention, he was that wrapped up in his own angry thoughts. “Ethan, please, let’s not do this. I DO love you. I left Brian to be here with you, didn’t I? Doesn’t that tell you how much you mean to me?”


“But you won’t bottom for me . . .” Ethan seemed absolutely stuck on that particular point.


“I never said that, Ethan,” I responded with a defeated sigh. “I didn’t realize this was such a big deal for you. I mean, it’s not like YOU haven’t bottomed before yourself, right?”


“That’s not the point,” Ethan grumbled, stamping his foot to emphasize his point - which, by the way, looks utterly ridiculous when you’re butt naked. “The point is that you don’t love me enough to bottom for me. You did it for HIM but you won’t do it for ME. Can’t you see how much that hurts me, Justin? If you really loved me, this wouldn’t even be an issue.”


What was I supposed to say to that? The entire premise of this argument was illogical and petty. But it was late, I was tired, and I didn’t want to argue over something so fucking idiotic. And, maybe, he did have a point. I HAD bottomed regularly for Brian. I could see why that fact would make someone like Ethan a little jealous.


It’s not like I objected to bottoming for Ethan - we’d had some decent fucks even if the sex wasn’t phenomenal or anything. But that wasn’t the reason I was with Ethan; if I’d wanted only mind-blowing sex, I would have stayed with Brian. Ethan gave me something other than sex - something I’d thought I needed. He gave me emotion and romance. So what if I didn’t get all my sexual needs met? So what if I didn’t get to top? I would still get off even if I bottomed for him. Any maybe he had a point that, if I REALLY loved him, I wouldn’t feel the need to top? I just couldn’t shake off that little whiff of guilt and self-doubt.


So, to avoid what I perceived as a fruitless argument about something where my lover might conceivably have a point, I caved. I told myself it wasn’t worth fighting about. I also figured that capituating this one time didn’t mean we couldn’t reopen the discussion again later, preferably when my lover was feeling less combative about things.


Taking a deep breath and letting the air out in a long, resigned whoosh, I turned to face my still-irate lover. “You know what, Ethan, you’re right. I don’t need to top if you feel so strongly about it. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to show how much you mean to me by making love to YOU for a change. But, if you’re not comfortable with that, it’s okay. I don’t need to top that badly.” I crawled off the bed and walked close enough to reach out and pull apart his intransigently crossed arms. “Please don’t be mad, okay? I really don’t want to argue. Can’t we start over?”


I managed to grab hold of both his hands and started to tow him back over to the bed. He resisted at first, but I persisted. Thankfully, his sulking didn’t last for long. And why should it when I was giving in to what he’d wanted all along? By the time I’d maneuvered him back onto the mattress, he was reluctantly smiling again.


It didn’t take long after I had stripped the unused condom off my deflated dick, laid myself down in front of him, and handed him a fresh condom, before Ethan seemed to have completely forgotten the argument. If anything, he was even more enthusiastic about our coupling than usual. It felt like he was pulling out all the stops. Maybe he was trying to show me how great he could make it for me? Or maybe he was just reveling in the fact that he was getting his way? But, regardless, Ethan seem to be thoroughly enjoying his time on top.


Meanwhile, I was having a difficult time getting into the mood. I don’t know if it was because I was still keyed up from our argument or if it was just the natural let down after the empty anticipation of getting to top for a change, but I just wasn’t feeling it. The fact that we’d just spent a significant period of time discussing Brian, which had inevitably brought to mind my former lover’s prowess in bed, didn’t help resign me to the less than stellar ministrations of my current lover. So, while Ethan was doing his best to coax me towards what he envisioned as the perfect climax, I was struggling just to stay in the moment. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, though, visions of Brian kept creeping into my mind; the memories of better times easily overshadowing Ethan’s best efforts.


After about fifteen minutes of lackluster results, I finally gave up and let myself wallow in my Brian fantasies. Ethan‘s soft, scruffy face, dark eyes, and unwashed curls were replaced in my mind’s eye by a clean-shaven, chiseled jaw, elegantly coiffed hair, and a sparkling hazel-eyed grin. Even better, the skinny, delicate, unathletic body draped over the top of me was swapped out for a much firmer, well-toned, harder body, that owed it’s musculature to long hours spent in the gym rather than days spent sitting around in the music room. And in my imagination that lean, taut body was furiously pounding into me, driving me hard and fast, in a way I’d always loved and which never failed to make me crazy.


Thankfully, that fantasy was more than enough to allow me to ignore Ethan’s more tender, yet tepid, attentions - if not, it probably would have taken hours for us to finish. As it was, I came pretty quickly, with a shout of ecstasy that seemed to trigger Ethan’s own release a minute later. Frankly, I was just glad the whole disconcerting and disappointing day was over so I could roll over and go to sleep.



The next day I decided to take my lunch and go hide out in a little park just around the corner from campus instead of going to the cafeteria like I normally would. I realized at the time that it was silly, and I couldn’t escape all my problems that way, but I was just feeling so antisocial. The thought of sitting through yet another lunch with Ethan and all of his musician friends was too much for me. The quiet and solitude of the park was a welcome break.


My phone beeped just as I was unpacking the bag full of junk food I’d snagged from a local convenience store, but I really didn’t want to talk to anyone so I let it go to voicemail. All I wanted to do was sit there on the picnic bench in the shade, eat an entire can of Pringles and drink a gargantuan-sized bottle of Diet Coke, while I sketched. Which is what I did, for at least a half hour or so, until I finally felt serene enough to deal with the twenty or so voicemails that I’d been ignoring all week.


Reluctantly, I pushed the speaker button on my phone so I could keep drawing while I listened, and then dialed into my voicemail, hitting ‘play’ on the oldest message first.


“Sunshine, you little shit, how dare you quit without even saying one word to me . . .” Debbie Novotny‘s voice shrilled angrily out of the speaker.


I tapped at the phone to delete the message without even listening to the rest of it. Then I did the same with the next five calls from Debbie. I knew it wasn’t fair to take out my anger at Michael on his mother, but I still wasn’t ready to deal with either of them. I did listen to the message from my mother, but it was nothing important and I figured I’d just call her back later. There was one short message from Emmett, simply voicing his support and asking me to give him a call later; which was nice, although I wasn’t sure how sincere he was, and right then I was feeling too dispirited to deal with Em’s brand of over-the-top, rosie-hued optimism. The rest of the messages were all about school or work, none of which required a return call, except for the three messages from Brian‘s lesbians.


“Hey, Sweetie. It’s Mel again,” the woman’s voice echoed out of the tiny phone speaker, making her sound brassier than normal. “You know, just because you finally kicked the asshole to the curb - like he deserved, I might add - it doesn’t mean you have to go into witness protection and hide out forever. Lindz has been worrying about you all week. We don’t even know where you’re living these days. So please, at least give us call back and let us know you’re still alive. Oh, and don’t forget, you’re still invited to the anniversary party this weekend. It’s Saturday, at 11:00, at the house. We expect to see you there. Don’t make me track you down and find you. Talk to you later. Bye.”


“Who was that?” the quiet voice coming up from behind me without warning startled me so badly that I actually jumped up off the bench at the picnic table where I’d been sitting.


“Ethan! Shit! You scared the fuck out of me,” I complained when I my heart finally stopped pounding out of my chest.


“Sorry, Babe, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled, taking up a seat on the bench next to me.


“What are you doing here? I thought you had rehearsal all afternoon.”


“I was looking for you, of course. I missed you at lunch today in the cafeteria. Is everything okay? Why are you hiding out over here?”


“I’m not hiding,” I lied. “I just had an assignment I need to work on and I didn’t want to be bugged.”


“You could’ve told me where you were going so I wouldn’t worry.” Ethan gave me this look that reminded me so much of my mother chastising me as a child for running off without telling her, that it instantly sparked a moment of resentment.


“Gee, I guess I forgot to put on my GPS ankle monitor when I left the apartment this morning. Speaking of which, how DID you track me down?”


“Sheesh. Somebody is in a mood today,” he grumbled pissily as he started to get back to his feet. “Well, excuse me, for actually being worried about my boyfriend when he didn’t show up on time for lunch. I promise never to bother caring again.”


For about ten seconds I was tempted to let him go - I guess he was right about me being in a rotten mood - but I just couldn’t do it. It’s just my nature to try and please people, I suppose. Either that or it’s my WASP upbringing that won’t let me be deliberately rude to people. Either way, before Ethan had taken more than two steps I was up, reaching for his hand, and towing him back to the bench with me.


“I’m sorry, Ethan. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I just really wanted some peace and quiet to work on my art, you know? Things have been so crazy ever since . . . I was kinda looking for some alone time so I could process it all.”


“Aww. Sorry, Babe. I know this has been tough on you. But I can’t help it that I worry about you,” Ethan easily relented, putting his arm around my shoulders to comfort me. “Just tell me if you’re going to run off and hide again, okay?” I sighed and nodded, which seemed enough to placate him. “So, who was that on the phone?”


“Just a friend.” I didn’t want to get into the fact that Mel and Lindz were really more Brian’s friends than mine.


“A friend, huh?” Ethan obviously knew there was more that I wasn't telling him. “So what about this party she was inviting you to? You know the orchestra has a performance Saturday night and I’ll be rehearsing all Saturday afternoon, right? We probably can’t make it to any parties.”


After all the years of fighting with Brian to get him to even acknowledge that we were a ‘we’, it was surprising how resentful I felt when Ethan just automatically assumed he was included in the invitation. “I can’t just blow them off. Mel and Lindz have been really good friends. Lindsey was instrumental in helping me get into PIFA to start with - she wrote one of my references for me. I can’t miss their Anniversary party.”


“Anniversary? They’re married? How old are these friends of yours?”


Leave it to Ethan to immediately pick up on the one topic I didn’t want to discuss. “They’re older,” was all I offered.


“Hmmm . . . So, that means they’re HIS friends, right? Shit, Justin. How are you ever going to move on with Brian and all his friends constantly trying to lure you back? Well, you’ve got a real life now - you’ve got me - and you don’t have to run after him or his friends looking for scraps of attention. You’ll just have to tell them you’re not going to their fucking party.”


I was speechless after that little rant. Mel and Lindz weren’t like that. Hell, Brian wasn’t like that either, for what it was worth. Where did I start in order to dispel all Ethan’s misconceptions? Fuck. So much for my relaxing, peaceful lunch alone, huh?


“Ethan, Mel and Lindz have done a lot for me over the years. I’m not going to just bail on their anniversary. But if it bothers you, you don’t have to come with me. I’m perfectly fine going on my own.”


“Yeah, right. That’s probably exactly what HE wants - to get you all alone to himself again so he can win you back. Nope. Not gonna happen,” Ethan insisted with a determined glare directed at me, as if I was the one advocating for a reunion with Brian.


I wanted to run away but, since that wasn’t practical, I instead tried once more to enlighten my current lover about the state of affairs with my former lover. “Brian isn’t going to try and win me back, Ethan. That’s not Brian. How many times do I have to explain? Brian would never bother with shit like that. And even if he did, it wouldn’t work. I’m with YOU now, Ethan. I chose YOU.” I knew in my heart that there was no going back after what I’d done to Brian, although it seemed like it was going to be a real struggle to try and convince Ethan of that fact. “But, I’m not going to rudely ignore Mel and Lindz’s invitation just because I’m worried about Brian maybe being there. I owe them too much to do that.”


“Okay, fine . . . How about this - you can take them over a bottle of wine or some other little gift before the party and make your excuses. I’m sure they’ll understand that you can’t be there the day of. Just tell them you have to work or something. It won’t be a total lie - you are working that night, right? That way they’ll be happy and you won’t have to risk running into HIM. Problem solved, right?”


And so it was settled - albeit without much input from me. At the time, I wasn’t sure if I was glad to be getting out of a party that I hadn’t really wanted to go to or not. Granted, I hadn’t been eager to be thrown back in with a group where I’d inevitably have to answer all sorts of uncomfortable questions. But to, in effect, just cut myself off from all of them so abruptly didn’t seem right either. Ethan seemed so confident, though, that his plan was the right way to handle things. He seemed convinced that he was helping me out of a tough situation by getting me out of the party. Meanwhile, I was too confused to think things through myself - especially not while Ethan was hovering, not giving me any time to myself to actually do any thinking. Besides, it WAS easier to just go with the flow and not argue with him. Was it any surprise that I let him arrange things for me?


At the time, I guess I just didn’t notice that I’d already fallen into the pattern of letting Ethan decide my life for me.


 

 

Chapter End Notes:

8/20/18 - This chapter was a total bitch to write. I simply did NOT want to write the sex scene between Justin and Ethan. Even though I never planned to make it graphic, I still had the hardest time even writing around their sex scene. I didn’t want to write it at all and, because of that, I was totally blocked for the past two weeks. I was only able to make myself write a paragraph or two a day at most. But, it’s a necessary part of this story, so it had to be done. Sorry if it’s totally painful to read. And unfortunately, it’s not going to get better for a while yet... TAG

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