But it wasn’t real, of course. Couldn’t be. This was just his super-nice jerk-off buddy. Who wanted to meet in person. Holy fuck. What was he supposed to do? Dustin could lead guys into the most dangerous of missions, jump into the pitch-black sky for a HALO jump, and swim miles, but he couldn’t figure out what to reply to Wes. After several tries at typing and erasing messages, another one came in from Wes.
Tell you what. I’m going to come up to see the exhibit anyway. I’ve been meaning to get out of here. If you’re there, we’ll talk, have that beer. If not, I’ll go hit up some Dupont bars after I see the museum. No pressure.
No pressure. Ha. Dustin was feeling all kinds of pressure, especially down south. His body really wanted him to say yes. And he really needed to type something. Wes was sticking his neck out, making this overture, and Dustin was reacting like some seventeen-year-old virgin. He could have a freaking beer with the guy, right?
Maybe, he typed at last. Just a beer.
Maybe they’d have terrible in-person chemistry. Maybe Dustin wouldn’t be turned on in the slightest. Maybe they’d walk around, look at the exhibit, and realize what a stupid idea this was. Hell, maybe Wes wouldn’t like him. Here he was, all assuming that Wes would want in his pants from the get-go, when for all he knew, Wes really did just want a friendly beer.
See you there, Wes replied, adding an emoticon of a whale.
Holy fuck. What had he agreed to? Breathing like he’d done an hour of wind sprints, Dustin pocketed his phone. Was he really going to do this? He’d spent years running from his attraction to other men, never venturing beyond the relative safety and anonymity of the internet. Was he ready to take that step for a guy he didn’t really know? Could he trust Wes?
You can always change your mind. He had over twenty-four hours to do just that, to talk some sense into himself, to remind himself who and what he was and what he couldn’t have.
* * *
He might not show, Wes reminded himself when he stopped for gas outside Richmond. He’d left Little Creek early. It might only be three and half hours to DC, but he knew from years of being stationed here that capital traffic was anything but predictable. And he liked being prepared, always had. Similarly, he already had a room for the night, a place in Dupont he’d stayed at before that wouldn’t break the bank. He wasn’t going to wait and see if Godzilla had a hotel—he really had meant it when he said he’d be fine with just a beer between friends.
This wasn’t solely about getting laid—it was more wanting something tangible to go along with the months of chatting, wanting to match up an actual flesh-and-blood person to the words on the screen and the voice in his ear. If they connected this weekend and ended up naked, that would be awesome, but Wes was also okay if the other guy wanted to keep such things for the middle-of-the-night chat sessions. It wasn’t like Wes had the time or inclination for a real relationship right now, but his...friendship—or whatever one wanted to call it with Godzilla—meant something, and meeting in-person felt like a logical next step, to him at least.
The early March wind whipped through the trees at the edge of the gas station. They hadn’t started to bloom yet, but at least they were past the worst of the winter months. If nothing else, it was a good day for a drive.
Buzz. Wes’s phone had a message but it was a new playlist and an emoji-laden update from his sister, Sam.
It’s my latest mix! Even threw in a Dierks song or three, just for you ;) Hope your weekend is awesome.
Smiling like he always did with a message from his favorite sibling, Wes tried to tamp down the brief hit of disappointment that it wasn’t his chat friend. They’d chatted further last night, and Godzilla, who was always a cagey motherfucker when it came to details, had said that Wes could call him Dustin. Chances were high that it was a fake name or a last name, but it sure was nice to have finally progressed to something beyond Saucer-Man and Godzilla. He’d wanted names for a while, but hadn’t wanted to spook the other guy.
Like you did when you suggested meeting? Wes didn’t have to have video chat to know that Dustin’s eyes had bugged out at the mere mention of in-person. Eyes that Wes still didn’t know what they looked like. Oh, he had plenty of pictures of the guy’s other parts all stored behind a password on his phone, but no face pics. They hadn’t ever mentioned meeting before, but then he’d known very early on that Dustin was on Pacific Time to his Eastern Standard. But hearing that Godzilla was coming here to Wes’s neck of the woods, or at least close to it? That had made him more impulsive than usual. They probably wouldn’t ever get a second shot at this, so why not take it?