Covet Thy Neighbor

around inside my head for a couple of days now, and if I was ever going to sleep again, Darren and I needed to talk. Tonight, damn it.
    Assuming he didn’t tell me off or blow me off. Sitting in my living room waiting for him to get home, I caught myself wishing I believed in some higher power I could pray to just to beg for Darren to hear me out. There was something ironic about that. And maybe I’d have appreciated that irony if I wasn’t wound so tight and trying not to get sick with nerves.
    If he thought I was an asshole, he had every right. If he refused to discuss anything with me, I couldn’t blame him. That didn’t stop me from hoping and hoping he didn’t walk away.
    The quiet creak of stairs under feet sent my heart rate skyrocketing.
    Now or never, before I lose my nerve .
    I opened the door as he was unlocking his.
    “Darren.”
    He froze, but still didn’t turn around.
    “Listen, um.” I cleared my throat. “Can we talk?”
    He took his key out of the lock and slid it into his pocket. For a moment, he didn’t move, and I thought he might push open the door and go into his apartment. But then he slowly turned around, and I braced myself for icy eyes and tight lips.
    As we faced each other across the dim hallway, though, I would have given anything for icy eyes and tight lips. Cold indifference or even barely contained fury would have been so much easier to swallow than the palpable hurt in his eyes. Like it was painful for him to even be in my presence.
    “Do you want to come in?” I asked.
    He didn’t move. “Let’s try talking first. Then we’ll see how it goes.”
    “You want to do this out here?”
    “Unless you think anyone’s going to join us.”
    I couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be sarcastic, or if there was an underlying plea of let’s just do this now before I have to walk away.
    I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to the punch: “On second thought, maybe it would be easier if we were sitting down.”
    “You sure?”
    He nodded.
    We moved into my apartment and sat in my living room. I took the recliner, and he took the middle of the couch. And no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t make myself face him.
    Stanley wandered in, gave each of us a look of disdain, and then trotted out of the room. Raised voices terrified him, and even the tension before an argument was enough to send him scurrying under my bed. I watched him go, grimacing as more guilt piled on. Even my cat was upset? Way to go, Seth.
    Finally, Darren broke the silence.
    “This is about the other morning, isn’t it?” His tone betrayed nothing.
    Without turning to him, I nodded. “I wanted to apologize.”
    “But I can’t imagine you’ve changed your mind.” Still no emotion either way. “About me.”
    I chewed my lip. “That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
    “Oh. Okay . . .”
    “I know we haven’t known each other all that long. But things just . . . clicked between us. More than they have for me with any other guy.”
    “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he whispered.
    “And I can’t lie, I’ve been edgy ever since you told me you were a minister. But ever since the other day, I’ve been a wreck.”
    Darren didn’t speak.
    I stared at the floor between us. “I know I was too quick to judge you. And I’m sorry for that. I really am.”
    “I can accept that,” he said softly.
    I exhaled, some—but not nearly all—of the tension leaving my shoulders. “The thing is, I . . .” Oh, fuck it. Might as well just say it instead of beating around the bush. “Religious differences may seem like a petty thing to avoid, but I’ve already lost too many people I love over this. I don’t . . .” The words stuck in my throat. They were all the wrong words anyway. Fuck, I couldn’t get my thoughts straight. Why the hell couldn’t I—
    “Seth. Look at me.”
    I hesitated before finally raising my gaze. Speaking was hard enough, but now . . . fuck.
    He inclined his head. “You don’t, what?”
    “What you are, what I am . . . I’m scared of what that’ll mean in the future. Because of my past. But even without our differences in beliefs, or my history, I don’t . . .” I moistened my lips, and somehow, as I held his gaze, I formed the words: “I’m scared to death of what it would be like to fall for you and then lose you.”
    Darren’s lips parted.
    I went on. “But I also don’t want to know what it’s like to go through life wondering