Dreaming in Color by Cameron Dane (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

the key he held very near to the rusty lock within. I don't want him looking in there. Sweat broke out on Marek's upper lip, and his heart raced too fast. He'll hate me if he finds out why that terrible night in Henderson happened.

The hum of activity on the water broke through the eerie silence of the morning. Marek moved across the room, peeked out the window, and saw Colin's speedboat slicing across the water toward the dock. Oh Christ. Marek exhaled an uneven breath. I can't be close to him right now. Lingering arousal for Colin, as well as thoughts of Payton, swirled in Marek's head, confusing his already sleep-deprived mind and sending panic in a flood throughout his body. I don't know what I'll do if he touches me again. I'm not ready.

After quickly grabbing a notepad and pen, Marek flew out of his room and down the stairs.

* * * * *

“Hello?” Colin shut the door behind him and draped a garment bag across the railing at the bottom of the stairs. “Marek? Good morning!”

No answer. Disappointment lanced Colin even though he had anticipated this possible result. It was too much to hope the man would greet him at the front door with a glass of orange juice and an order to prepare himself for a day full of fucking. It wouldn't surprise Colin to find Marek working in his greenhouse; Colin sensed the man spent a lot of time holed up in there. Close to Payton but away from the world. Familiar knots tightened in Colin's stomach, twisting him with worry that he would lose Marek before he even had him.

Colin knew it was foolhardy to think he had a right to Marek based purely on a relationship in dreams, especially since Marek didn't even share the same awareness. Didn't change the need living inside him, though, clawing to get free. He wanted to stride up to Marek and kiss him full on the mouth, in front of an audience, to stake ownership once and for all. In front of a ghost too, if necessary.

Steeling himself for a potential battle, Colin muttered, “No time like the present.”

Passing through the kitchen, his mind fully on his next plan of attack, Colin almost missed the note clipped to the refrigerator door. Scrawled out in block letters with bold lines, it read: I'm okay. Went for a hike. Don't know what time I'll be back.—Marek.

Colin couldn't help grinning at the man's signature. As if Colin wouldn't know who left the note. As quickly as Colin smiled at the thoughtful gesture of the little missive, it wobbled and went away. He covered the note with his open hand and leaned his forehead into the fridge, sighing. I kissed him too soon. I scared him.

Panicking for a second, then pausing to think for a longer minute, Colin shuffled through the options for his next move. Tossing idea after idea aside as not right for Marek, Colin settled on perhaps the riskiest of all moves. It wasted precious time and put the ball entirely in Marek's court.

Colin grabbed the note off the fridge and tucked it into his pocket. Taking a second to swipe the notepad off the counter, he backtracked through the house. Only one thing to do; Colin grabbed his bag off the railing and walked up the stairs, heading straight for Marek's bedroom.

* * * * *

Hours later, emerging from around the side of the house, Marek stalled, slumping against the side of the porch when he didn't see Colin's boat tethered to the dock. He didn't stay. Disappointment stabbed Marek, and he chuckled dryly at his own contrary thoughts. He ran to hide in the mountain, missing breakfast and lunch entirely so he could avoid Colin, and now here he stood, hurt that the man gave him exactly what he wanted: solitude on his island.

Dragging his feet, Marek went inside, made himself a veggie sandwich, and downed a few chips with an icy fruit drink. With his mind centered squarely on Colin, though, he barely tasted the meal. His clothes were dirty and drenched in sweat after his hike, his mood had turned foul, and Marek didn't have anyone to blame but himself.

He rinsed his plate and glass and put them in the dishwasher, muttering obscenities to himself as he climbed the stairs. Marek's entire life in Henderson had centered around repression and hiding virtually every thought, opinion, and feeling he ever experienced, always sensing his parents and brother would more than reject him if they ever found out who the real Marek was; they would have brutalized him and then thrown him out on his ass. Upon Payton's death, Marek had made the trip to Henderson to tell his family he was gay and would no longer hide it. They reacted with disgust and violence, as he'd always feared they would, and Marek no longer had contact with them.

On the day Marek put Payton in the ground, he swore he would never hide who he was and what he wanted ever again. Only, Marek hadn't counted on Colin, the one man whose past tangled Marek up in a blanket of guilt and shame he could never release. A terrible choice made long ago, brought to the surface and relived repeatedly in his nightmares ever since Payton's murder. The part he played in Colin's attack.

Why did it have to be you, Colin? The one person who might make me break my promise and deny myself what I really want. I think with you.

Feeling rudderless, Marek entered his bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks.

“What?”

Marek went closer, halting in front of his wardrobe, where a tan, lightweight suit hung from the door. It had a note speared through the hanger hook, and Marek ripped it off, sitting down on his bed to read.

Come to my friends' wedding tonight. Jordan and Tag say they would love to have you. You can stand off to the side, out of the