"Tell me one thing, do you think you need more time, or will it ever be an option?  Do you plan to spend your whole life living a lie?"

"Stop.  Just stop.  This went too far."

"I notice you didn't answer, and I'm not surprised.  I can't do that, can't live a lie, Stephan.  Tell me which you choose.  The lie or me.  Which one is more important to you?"

I was suddenly furious, so angry at him, at his impatience, his inability to see my side of it, that I wanted him gone.  Wanted it enough to say, my tone glacial, "I choose to be me, and I refuse to be manipulated by you into living my life as you see fit.  We don't all have to march in the Gay Pride Parade, Javier.  That's never going to be who I am.  So if you're looking for an excuse to leave, there's the f**king door."  I waved my arm at it.

He gasped, face going slack, like I'd slapped him.  "This isn't about g*y pride, but do you even realize, even comprehend, how ashamed you are of being g*y?"

I didn't like that.  It definitely hit me in a place I wasn't comfortable exploring.  I made him sorry he'd said it.  "We're done here.  Get off your soapbox and leave.  Now."

His face crumpled.

I'd been mean to him, when I was never mean.  I was on a roll, though, and I wasn't done.  "I mean it.  Done.  This thing has run its course anyway."

I was numb for a while after he'd left, but the numbness didn't last long.

When the pain hit me, I crawled into bed with Bianca, moving like a wounded animal.

She welcomed me with open arms, and it helped, as it always did.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

HOT BUTTON

Javier didn't budge, and neither did I.

Unlike me, though, he wasn't interested in or willing to be civil.  If I entered a room, he left it.  If he was assigned to work one of my flights, he called out sick.

It was an awful breakup, and we'd only been together for a month.

Maybe it was for the best that it'd ended so abruptly, no matter how senseless that ending might have felt, because I couldn't imagine how much worse it could have gotten, the breakup, if we'd been together a substantial amount of time.

It was a while before he even said one word to me, and I quickly found I preferred the frigid silence.

We were at a Valentine's party.  Murphy was throwing it, so even though I wasn't really in the mood to celebrate Valentine's Day, we wound up going.

Javier was there, I saw right away, hanging out in the backyard with some of his friends.

I really hadn't wanted to see him today of all days.

I preempted his usual snub and just avoided him.  Or tried to.

It was a few hours in, and I myself was about three drinks deep.

Javier was at least six.  Not good.

I was in the kitchen, hanging out with Murphy and a group of pilots, distractedly trying to follow their conversation, which was about building a proper beer pong table.

Javier came walking in unsteadily, drink in hand, bitter eyes all for me.

Oh Lord, I thought resignedly.

"How's your Valentine's Day, Stephan?" he drawled, moving to stand in front of me.

I saw where this was going, and I shifted away from the group, ushering Javier to a quiet corner in the dining room.

It didn't matter.  Javier was in no mood to be quiet, wherever the setting.

"I asked you how your Valentine's Day is," he said insolently.

I stared at his angry face, the tense set of his features, and all I wanted to do was touch him.

Why did it have to be like this?  Was there any way that I could fix it?  Would he ever see my side of it?

My mind awhirl with questions, I answered his, "It's not great, Javier.  How about yours?"

His lip curled up, his eyes filling.

I had to look away.

"How is your Valentine?  Have you proposed to her yet?"  His voice was loud and mocking.

I sent him a warning look.  "You leave her out of it.  I mean it."

"Or what?" he hissed, more quietly at least.  "You'll dump me, and go back to her, go back to your comfortable lie of a life?"

He swayed on his feet, and without thinking, I reached out and caught his shoulders, holding him steady.

With a cry, he launched himself into my chest.

I caught him there for one brief moment before I remembered where we were, that we had no privacy, and I stepped back, thrusting him away from me like he was on fire.  Like he was unwanted, despite the fact that I wanted him badly.

That, of course, didn't make anything better.

He cussed me out, loudly, calling me just about every name in the book, but not outing me.

I took it in silence, watching him, hating myself.

Bianca showed up in the middle of it, looking ready to do battle, and so I knew it was time to end it.

"Enough," I told him quietly.

He had one last salvo to throw at me as a parting shot.  It was a good one.

He leaned in close, his sorrowful eyes just killing me, and whispered, "You were the only guy I've loved who ever made me feel like I was worth anything.  Anything at all.  I guess the joke was on me, huh?"

Boy did that get to me.  Feeling worthless was my own personal hot button.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed, having no reassurances for him.  I couldn't even reassure myself.  I could never be what he wanted.