Chapter Four – The Kind of Neighbors that Kiss

Hudson stepped into the elevator and pressed his forefingers against his temples, forcing a groan out of himself as he leaned against the wall. Two days after having paid that visit to The Bouncing Bunny, and he still felt the grime of that place on his skin. He had taken photos of the two young men while giving them free reign to pet each other – nothing too raunchy, he had ordered, some people liked using their imagination – and he had focused the phone camera on their faces, trying to catch them at good angles so that he could search for them in the missing persons database he accessed using his usual credentials. It was a tedious task that had kept him awake more than it should have, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. The captain kept telling him he couldn’t save everyone. That still left room for saving some, right?

“Hold the door, please,” someone called out and Hudson immediately held up his arm to do as asked.

He was rather surprised to see his neighbor, his cute neighbor who had run out of his apartment after being kissed as if his house had been on fire, rushing into such close quarters with him, looking a little flushed and breathless.

“How’re you doing?” he asked with a polite smile, meant for neighbors he didn’t know anything about. Except that he knew a couple of things about this one, didn’t he? He stole a glance at Otis. He was biting his bottom lip and looking ahead. Was the young man trying to ignore him? That would do both of them a world of good.

“I’m fine, thank you for your kind question,” Otis replied in his usual, over the top formal fashion. “And how are you?”

“I’ve been better. Thank you for your kind question,” Hudson mimicked.

The elevator seemed to move at a snail’s pace. There was an awkward silence between them until the car stopped. Hudson made a move to get to the door, and Otis hurried toward it at the same time, which made them clash and look at each other, equally startled.

There were things you could change in the world, right? Philosophers and the like said so; they said it was healthy. Hudson made the decision in the blink of an eye. “Are you still looking for dating advice?” he asked.

“Yes, always,” Otis replied and blushed. He bit his bottom lip again and looked away.

“How about now?” Hudson offered. For some reason, the youth in front of him didn’t think himself dating material and that was a mistake. Also, since he appeared to be so gullible despite his strange mannerisms, he could also fall victim to bad people. Hudson was already preparing a mental lecture. Damn, maybe he was getting old. Older than his years, obviously.

***

That had been an unexpected encounter. Otis had played various scenarios in his mind regarding the best way to act when seeing Hudson again. Apparently, his imagination had a way of running away with him, because, invariably, he visualized himself getting pressed against a wall, a sofa, a bed, or even the floor, by his neighbor’s hard body and made to yield to another kiss. He had to stop imagining ever seeing Hudson again altogether just to stop the boiling in his blood. Well, maybe it didn’t boil, because that would cause his death, but there was a definite rise in temperature he experienced if he did as little as think of those tattoos pointing at a certain part of his neighbor’s anatomy.

His grandma used to say that fate had its ways to work itself out. Even the direst circumstances shouldn’t make you lose hope. That was a beautiful thought; Otis had always thought so.

Right now, fate was offering him a chance. Hudson was offering more dating advice, so he had to take it because a ‘no’ at the wrong time might close that door for him forever.

“Yes,” he replied energetically to his neighbor’s question. “I would love to.”

“Then, please, be my guest for the next ten minutes or so,” Hudson said.

“Ten minutes? That sounds like a very short time for proper advice,” Otis commented.

“You’re in the habit of cutting these little sessions of ours quite short,” Hudson said as they walked side by side down the hallway. He added a smile to that, and Otis made the mistake of looking at him. That dimple was there. It drew his eyes and he wanted to look at it from up close, maybe even touch it. “Is there something on my face?”

Otis shook his head. “You have a dimple. It’s funny. It makes me want to poke you.”

Hudson laughed and opened the door to his apartment. “Come on. I’ll answer your questions and give you some thoughts of my own. But no poking, please.”

“Of course not. I don’t act on my impulses,” Otis replied with emphasis. “I’m a thinking person.”

“Until you’re not.” The last words were said so quietly that he almost missed them.

However, it seemed dishonest to pretend. “I heard that,” he said.

“Damn, you’re a smartass,” Hudson commented and chuckled.

Even the way he chuckled made him sound like a man, Otis mused. Yes, everything about Hudson was manly, from the short stubble on his face to the way he moved with so much confidence in his muscles, joints and bones. There was so much to learn from him. Otis felt truly excited about it.

Hudson invited him to sit on the same sofa, and Otis decided to project the right image this time around. He took his seat with determination and then looked up at his host expectantly. “I’m ready,” he said, after a few unnerving moments during which Hudson just stood there, a couple of feet away, staring at him. There was also the matter of all those leashes and muzzles on the wall, and Otis had to use all his power not to let his eyes stray there. The need to ask questions would surely come next. Something told him that they weren’t far enough into dating advice to bring those up.

“Let’s start with something simple,” Hudson began. Otis nodded eagerly. “Have you ever kissed someone?”

“Yes,” Otis lied. He wasn’t thinking at the moment, as much as he thought himself to be a thinking person. He couldn’t help staring at Hudson, and that made his throat go dry. The way his neighbor crossed his arms, exposing his sleeve tattoos, was enough for him to turn hot and cold from one moment to the next. How was it possible to feel like that in Hudson’s presence? Did Hudson realize what he was doing to people, only by walking in the world, with that purposeful stride, with those strong arms, with that confident look in his eyes?

“Let me make a few things clear. We’re not talking here about the way you kiss your mom good night,” Hudson said.

Otis felt his chest turning inward. His mom had never liked good night kisses. He couldn’t remember one occasion she had let him kiss her.

Hudson took his silence for something else. “Look, Otis, it seems to me that you don’t kiss much. And, if you want to date, kissing sort of comes with the territory.”

He clasped his hands tightly and held them pressed against his knees. “I do kiss. Boys. Men.” His face was getting hotter and hotter by the minute.

Finally, he dared to look up. Hudson was staring at him with a stricken expression on his face. “Wow. Does my breath stink or something, then?”

Otis knew his face had to be beet-red by now; most probably, the whites of his eyes were making an ugly contrast against all that red. Hudson was obviously referencing their kiss. He looked down, feeling chastised. “No, it doesn’t. You… taste good.” He took one deep inhalation at the end of that, his chest tight and uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Hudson said gently. “Then, what happened? Did you forget and leave your oven on?”

“I don’t have an oven.”

“Then what are you eating? Never mind. One look at you is enough to answer my question.”

“I have a breakfast maker,” Otis whispered, his voice already squealy and unnatural.

“Why are we talking about kitchen appliances?”

“You brought it up,” Otis felt it necessary to point out.

Hudson, to his surprise, sighed deeply. “Why do you need dating advice, Otis?”

“Because,” he began, feeling that he was finally stepping onto firm ground, “I am very bad at it.”

“I don’t see why. You’re well-behaved, neat, beautiful.”

The last word hit him right in the chest. He raised his eyes. “Beautiful?” he whispered.

You’re ugly. You’re so ugly. How do you expect anyone to tolerate you around them? The words, hissed at him so many times paired with alcohol-infused breath, made him turn his face away until his chin was grabbed hard and he was forced to look into those eyes filled with hate for him for reasons he had never understood.

“Yes, beautiful,” Hudson repeated the word, without realizing what such a simple thing could do to him. “So, it appears to me that the only obstacles in your way are of your own making. Let’s talk a little, and let me explain to you some things about men, and how to choose the right kind from the many douchebags who’ll surely want to bang you.”

Otis was breathless. He looked at Hudson for any signs that it was all just a mean joke to him. Maybe his neighbor considered him pitiful, unable to date at his age of twenty-two and all. But all he saw on that ragged face was honesty, or so he thought.

***