Gateway to Love Page 2

  He’d slid into an empty seat near the door just as the teacher turned around from the whiteboard. Someone next to him giggled and he glanced over to see the cutest boy he’d ever laid eyes on. Mitch had felt dumbstruck as his cheeks heated in reaction.

  “Close call,” the kid had whispered with a nod toward the teacher. “I heard she doesn’t put up with latecomers.”

  Mitch pulled himself together and smiled.

  It wasn’t until class was over that they were able to talk.

  “I’m Mitchell Moon,” he’d offered, as the guy rose from his desk. “Everyone calls me Mitch, though.”

  Craig had beamed at him, his blue eyes sparkling a little as he leaned down until their faces were only inches apart. “Hi, Mitchell,” he said with a wink. “My name’s Craig Pruitt.”

  And that was that—they became instant friends, bonding over video games, movies, and their love of Star Trek. It was the kind of friendship only found once in a lifetime. Mitch had come out to Craig within the first week of meeting him and his friend hadn’t even blinked.

  There was only one problem with their friendship—Mitch had never been able to shake the attraction he felt for Craig. And over the years, as they earned their associate’s degrees from Longview and moved on to UMKC, their bond grew and his feelings for Craig only strengthened.

  When Craig had confided in him that he thought he was bisexual their sophomore year, Mitch’s hopes had been raised, but by that time he was firmly planted in the friend zone. So he did what a best friend should—he supported Craig as he came to terms with things and accepted who he was. He’d admitted that he’d had a crush on a guy in high school, but it ran its course and he never acted on it. As far as Mitch knew, Craig had only dated two guys since then, nothing panning out toward a full-time relationship, though. But he’d had his share of casual hookups with men. Craig had gone a little wild when he’d first come out as bisexual, but had calmed down over the years. In fact, Mitch couldn’t remember him even going on a date during their senior year.

  He’d seen the types of men Craig seemed to be attracted to, and they were nothing like Mitch, so he’d tucked his feelings away again and told himself not to go there anymore. It was an ongoing internal battle, but most of the time, he had a handle on it.

  This last year of college, they’d found a cheap two-bedroom apartment near campus and moved in that summer. Sharing a small space with the man of his dreams had been hard. Especially when Craig often walked around their place wearing only a pair of boxers.

  Mitch was honest enough to admit he’d fantasized about Craig too many times to count and would probably continue to do so long after he’d moved. Maybe that’s how it always was with a first love or major crush.

  In his heart, he knew being apart would be good for them. Well, at least it would be for Mitch. Maybe he could finally go out with someone without constantly comparing him to Craig. But in the meantime, he continued to fight the attraction. The desire. The love. Because that’s what it had turned into. Love. Over the years, the longing, the emotional connection he felt with Craig, it had all turned to love. He wasn’t even sure when it had happened, but there was no denying Mitch was in love with his best friend.

  And just when he was close to being free, there they were. One last hurrah before moving out of state. One last adventure with Craig.

  What was he going to do without him? He turned to stare out the window, his eyes blind to the passing scenery. All he could see was a future without Craig, and it was shrouded in gray. Mitch was so tired of fighting his feelings. He chuckled to himself. He was the stereotypical guy in love with his best friend. He knew it was useless, but if Craig had asked him to go to California with him, Mitch would have dropped everything and followed him out west. He knew how pathetic that sounded, but when it came to Craig, Mitch didn’t care what others might think.

  About an hour later, Craig pulled over to a gas station to fuel up and grab some snacks. Mitch used the disgusting bathroom, holding his breath as he did his business, quickly washed up, and made his way into the convenience store.

  Craig was at the counter paying and held up a bag of items.

  “I’m just going to get a drink,” Mitch told him as he walked past Craig. His friend grabbed his arm, wrapping his fingers around his wrist.

  “I already got you your Dr Pepper,” he told Mitch with a smile. “And your Kit Kat.”

  Mitch wanted to respond. Wanted to say thank you. But all he could do was revel in the sensation of Craig’s touch. Electricity prickled his skin, skittering through him.

  “Mitchell?” Craig’s voice was low. He sounded worried.

  “Sorry. Just… forgot what I was going to say,” he lied, knowing he sounded lame. He noticed Craig hadn’t let go of his wrist and raised his eyes to meet his friend’s gaze. Mitch was surprised at the intensity. The large black pupils. The flushed cheeks. “I-I’m… fine. Thanks for grabbing some things for me.”

  Craig studied him, looking like he wanted to say something, but finally let Mitch go and they walked back out to the car and settled in.

  “Less than an hour left,” Craig announced.

  Mitch tried to tamp down his excitement, but it was difficult. He’d always wanted to visit Hannibal. He’d read all of Mark Twain’s stories, and knowing he was from Missouri had encouraged him when he’d dreamed about becoming a writer.

  Graduating with a Bachelor of Arts in English had put him closer to that dream. Being hired to work on a grassroots website devoted to getting people registered to vote had been exciting and he was looking forward to starting next month. He was less excited about the magazine internship. West Virginia tourism was definitely not something he remotely cared about. He’d only taken it because his sister, Samantha, lived in West Virginia, where the magazine was headquartered, and she had helped him get the interview. Plus he could stay with her until he got a feel for the area. Samantha was also providing him with apartment information, so he would have several to check out when he moved.

  The magazine hadn’t been in his original plans. He’d wanted to stay in Kansas City after graduation and work on his writing. His dream was to become a published author. Mitch lived to write, creating fantasy worlds and bringing characters to life. Over the years, he’d managed to put some money away, through his work at the coffee shop. Add what he’d been given as graduation gifts from his mother, his sister, and various relatives, and he was confident he could afford to give the writing thing a try for a while—as long as he had a roommate and a part-time job.

  When Craig announced he’d taken a job in California, working for a nonprofit that helped homeless teens, Mitch’s plans took a nosedive. While he’d been proud of Craig, the idea of staying in Kansas City without him was depressing. If he was going to start a new chapter in his life and really get over Craig, staying where he’d be constantly reminded of their times together was out of the question. Writing would have to take a back seat to making a living. Mitch was trying to be an adult and make responsible choices—decisions that would help him move forward.

  Maybe a new start in a new city would help him finally find a man that he could be in a real relationship with.

  He just had to survive this trip without telling his best friend the truth he’d hidden for years.

  Chapter Two

  Craig

  THEY ROLLED past the Welcome to Hannibal sign and into the quaint old-fashioned town just after 11:00 a.m., and Craig was starving. The candy bar he’d eaten had barely made a dent in his hunger. He gave a sidelong glance over to Mitchell and sighed. His friend had been quiet for the last half hour or so. Something was on his mind and he wasn’t telling Craig about it.

  He’d hoped that this trip—this time spent together—would give him the chance to show Mitchell how he felt about him. But something felt awkward between them. Something was off, and Craig couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “Want to grab some lunch before we head off on the tour?”

>   Mitchell nodded but stayed quiet—his gaze out the passenger window taking in the small town.

  “Can you check your phone for a restaurant? Wasn’t there a diner or something we saw when we were looking at the Mark Twain info?”

  Mitchell’s eyes lit up when he glanced over at Craig. “That’s right. Becky Thatcher’s Diner. It’s on….” He paused and pulled out his phone. “On Third Street. Turn off here.” He pointed at the next turn.

  Craig easily found the diner and passed it as he turned into a side street to park. Within minutes they were standing in front a modest redbrick building with the name of the restaurant painted across the front window. A small red metal bench sat just next to the door.

  “Looks pretty tiny,” Craig said, peering inside.

  Mitchell shrugged. “Small town. Come on.” He inclined his head toward the door. “I’m hungry.”

  Craig reached over and opened the single glass door before Mitchell could grab the handle and moved back to let him go first. His best friend looked at him oddly but proceeded inside. Craig fought back the desire to put his hand on Mitchell’s back. They weren’t on a goddamned date. Get your head together.

  He followed Mitchell inside, and they were instantly transported back in time. From the black-top bar that ran the entire length on one side, to the red vinyl swivel barstools and retro laminate-top square tables with matching black vinyl chairs, it seemed they had stepped into a 1950s movie. Elvis sang “Jailhouse Rock” through speakers from the ceiling as Craig and Mitchell stood upon black-and-white-checked linoleum.

  The plain white walls were adorned with the typical photos and local award plaques normally found in a small diner. Large red metal letters spelling out the word EAT hung on the wall closest to the entrance. Gray-and-white-vinyl booths lined the wall opposite the bar, and Mitchell strode down the narrow aisle to an empty one. Craig followed, trying not to stare at his friend’s cute ass.

  Craig and Mitchell each slid into the booth on opposite sides. Before they could blink, two menus encased in plastic were placed on the table. An older woman with short gray hair held an order pad and smiled down at them.

  “Welcome to Becky Thatcher’s. What can I get you to drink while you look over the menu?” She pulled a pencil from behind her ear as she waited for their answer.

  Mitchell pointed at a small cooler with the name Fitz’s splashed across the top. The clear glass door showcased bottles of soda. “What’s Fitz’s?”

  The waitress chuckled. “You boys ain’t from here, are you?”

  “Kansas City,” Craig offered.

  “Well, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of Fitz’s. It’s the best darn soda there is. Made right here in Missouri! You like root beer?”

  They both nodded, caught up in her enthusiasm.

  “Try that. You’ll love it.”

  Mitchell raised his eyebrows and looked across the narrow table at him, so Craig shrugged. “Sure, put us down for two.”

  She left to get their drinks and they took a moment to decide on lunch. The menu boasted they sold breakfast all day, and Craig smiled. “You’re going to get the Mustang Sally’s French Toast, aren’t you?”

  Mitchell looked up, surprise in his eyes. “How did you know?”

  Craig laughed. “Seriously?” He playfully kicked him under the table. “You only talk about your mother’s french toast every time we go to a diner. I’m surprised you haven’t written a sonnet about it yet.”

  Mitchell blushed and kicked him back but left his foot pressing against his. Interesting.

  His best friend did indeed order the french toast, so Craig decided to follow suit and go along with the whole breakfast-for-lunch thing and ordered a ham-and-cheese omelet with hash browns.

  The waitress left them each an icy cold bottle of root beer, and Mitchell grabbed his and took a long drink. Craig was fascinated by the way his Adam’s apple moved and couldn’t tear his gaze away from Mitchell’s neck.

  “Craig?”

  Shit. Busted. His cheeks heated as he stared across the table at Mitchell and tried to school his expression. “Yeah?”

  “You okay? You looked a thousand miles away.” Mitchell raised his right eyebrow and watched him.

  Craig always wondered how he did that. He couldn’t raise just one eyebrow. He’d tried, but it always ended up being both.

  “Craig?”

  Fuck. His mind was wandering. He grabbed his bottle and gulped down some soda before responding. “Sorry.” He set the soda back on the table. “Guess I was just zoning out.”

  “Good root beer.”

  Craig met Mitchell’s gaze and nodded. “Yeah.”

  Mitchell narrowed his eyes. “Out with it.”

  Craig’s heart stammered. “Out with what?”

  “For fuck’s sake, you’re acting weird, Craig. Do you not want to go on this trip? Remember, this was your idea, not mine.”

  Damn. Mitchell sounded irritated. Looked it too. Craig needed to get his shit together. He’d planned it out so carefully. They would spend time together and he’d work hard to show his best friend that he could be more than just a friend. He searched for something to say, but the words weren’t there—he was a total blank. Not for the first time, he wished he had Mitchell’s gift for words.

  Mitchell slid out of the booth, furrowing his brow. “Hopefully you’ll start talking when I get back.”

  Mitchell made his way to the men’s room, and Craig’s whole body heated when he realized he was watching Mitchell’s ass. Again. But damn, it was hard not to notice. He was so goddamned sexy, it nearly killed Craig at the apartment. Especially when Mitchell walked around in only boxers.

  He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his feelings for his friend had changed, but sometime over the last year he’d started looking at Mitchell as a lover. Well, a potential lover. Hell, they’d never held hands or even kissed. Mitchell had never given any indication he felt anything more for Craig than friendship, but that didn’t stop Craig from hoping.

  The last year had been torture, but when he’d realized they were moving to opposite sides of the country, Craig had known he had to make his move. It was funny, really. When he’d accepted the job in California, it hadn’t even occurred to him that Mitchell wouldn’t be with him. Somehow, whenever he looked at his future, Mitchell was there. Always.

  It wasn’t until Mitchell took the job in West Virginia that it had finally dawned on him they wouldn’t be together anymore. Sheer panic had overtaken him then, and he’d hidden in his room for a couple of days, playing it off as studying. But what he’d really been doing was rethinking his life and concocting a plan to show Mitchell they were meant to be together. A future without Mitchell wasn’t anything Craig even wanted to consider.

  So he had to make a move—come clean about his feelings. If Mitchell turned him down, he’d survive. It would be difficult and heartbreaking, but he’d move to California and lick his wounds. He was sure he’d never find a man he wanted as much as Mitchell, so he tried not to dwell on the possibility.

  Craig had only begun to accept that he was bisexual in the last couple of years. He’d struggled with it at first. And then he’d gone a little crazy with the whole anonymous-sex thing. Once that period of his life ended, he’d settled down and tried to date a few men, but it never went anywhere. As he grew older, he’d found he was more attracted to men than women, although the attraction to Mitchell had been unexpected. Once he’d gotten over the surprise, Craig had realized it made sense. Mitchell embodied everything he’d ever wanted in a partner. He was incredibly smart and when they talked, Mitchell stimulated Craig’s mind. They could talk for hours. That he was sexy as hell was a bonus. When he looked at Craig with those chocolate-brown eyes, Craig melted. Craig wanted to run his fingers through all those dark brown shaggy layers and then trail his fingers over every inch of Mitchell’s caramel skin, but he held back. He fought the desire every day.

  And now the time had come. They were moving on and it
was now or never. He needed to see if they had a chance. Needed to convince Mitchell.

  Their food arrived just as Mitchell took his seat and they both dug in.

  “You going to tell me what’s on your mind?”

  Craig froze. He’d hoped Mitchell had forgotten. He shook his head. “Nothing on my mind. Just probably zoning from driving so much.” Lame and he knew it.

  Mitchell shrugged, clearly letting his friend off the hook for now. “Where to first?”

  Craig looked at his phone. “We’re less than a mile from Mark Twain’s boyhood home. We could just walk over right after lunch.”

  Mitchell grinned. “Sounds great.” He dug into his french toast.

  They ate in silence for the most part, enjoying the retro-homey feel of the restaurant. Craig wasn’t sure what was going through Mitchell’s mind, but he was just trying to keep himself from reaching across the table and circling Mitchell’s wrist with his fingers. He wanted to touch him. He always wanted to touch him.

  And then Mitchell’s foot bumped his and stayed put and Craig bit back a grin. Maybe there was hope.

  THEY WALKED back out into the sunshine, the temperature higher than when they’d arrived. Mitchell opened up a paper map he’d grabbed from the restaurant, showing Craig they were only a block or so from the home.

  “Hey, the place is actually a museum,” Mitchell added.

  “Yeah, I read that.” Craig didn’t really care about seeing where Mark Twain grew up, but he knew it was important to Mitchell and he wanted to make him happy. And God, he wanted to grab his hand. Walk along the sidewalk like they were together. It seemed everywhere he looked, happy couples were strolling through the scenic town. He stepped a little closer and bumped Mitchell’s arm with his shoulder. Mitchell was a few inches taller than his own five eleven, but Craig was broader. And stronger. So he made sure to bump him gently.