7
Trevor can’t stop thinking about him.
The arrogant rich prick, that is.
“Dude, what the fuck happened Friday night?”
“Not now,” I state to Elijah as I pour myself a mug of coffee, then bring it to my face to give it a gentle blowing.
“You hate coffee.”
“Not this beautiful Monday morning, I don’t.”
“C’mon. You held out on me all weekend. You wouldn’t even go to the potluck Saturday.”
“I thought you were kidding about a potluck,” I shoot back.
“You came home freakin’ shirtless on Friday,” he goes on like a scolding mother, “and you wouldn’t talk to me then. You had ‘sad rejected date’ written all over your face. All Saturday and yesterday, you looked like someone sat on your donuts. Now, you’re hopping around all bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed this morning like you’ve got a family of frisky squirrels in your pants.”
I return with my mug to the kitchen table—cluttered with my roommate’s dirty cups, empty beer cans, a stack of big sci-fi novels, and a PlayStation controller—and continue reading an article about one of Mr. Gage’s clients that I started on last night. I need to be prepared. Today is the day we finally meet him.
“Talk to me, bud,” he tries again. “Was it really that bad?”
He’s not going to give up until I let it all out. Besides, I do tell Elijah everything. We never keep secrets from one another. Even when we were kids, we’d share everything—good and bad. He was one of the first people I came out to, even before my own parents.
“I went home with him,” I start, my eyes still glued to the article on the screen of my laptop.
“And … what? He saw your third nipple and kicked you out?”
I roll my eyes. “No, he didn’t see my imaginary third nipple that I don’t have, you punk. He didn’t kick me out, either. I kicked myself out, more or less.”
Elijah lifts an eyebrow. “Why? He lived in a shithole? His dick looked like a thumb? He had a wife?”
“Quite the opposite. A dog. And he lives in a gorgeous, upscale high-rise eight blocks in that direction.” I point without looking. “Y’know, where all the other rich pricks live up in their big fancy towers.”
“Rich pricks, huh?” Elijah drums his fingers along the table. “Not hearing the problem yet. Dogs are amazing. I mean, cats are better, but—”
“No, they’re not.”
“Dude, he could’ve been your sugar daddy. You said he was an older guy, right? In that text you sent me on the way to his place?”
I’m not really reading the article. I’ve been aggressively trying to choke away the memory of Friday night, and my roommate is making it impossible. Every second, I’m assaulted by yet another image of Ben’s striking face, his fierce eyes, and the look of his muscles in those perfectly-fitting clothes of his.
And that beady-eyed look of hunger he gave me just before I shut the door on his face.
That look alone fueled my jerk-off session last night.
And the night before. And the moment I got home Friday.
I give my mug of coffee another gentle blow. How can one love the smell of something, yet hate the taste of it? Maybe that’s a perfect metaphor for my love life; delicious to dream of, ghastly to know.
“You realize what today is, right?” I ask him, trying to shift the subject. “I will be on-time, and by on-time, I mean fifteen minutes early. I’m not gonna wait on you.”
“Oh, I’m ready. Hey, which tie?” he asks suddenly, lifting two options to his chin. I give him half a look, then nod at the one on the left, a black-and-grey striped one. “Good choice.” He flips up his collar to put it on without the assistance of a mirror.
I go to take a sip of the coffee, but the burning sensation at my upper lip before I even reach the menacing liquid makes me recoil. Again, the metaphor. “Ugh. It’s like mystery lava.”
“That’d be a nice name for some hipster coffee joint. ‘Mystery Lava Java’. Seriously, though, if the guy was that loaded—”
“Did I mention the prick part? He’s a prick.” I shut the laptop, giving up on reading the article, and head for the bathroom to check my hair one last time.
“How much older are we talking?”
I bite my lip and consider it, trying to judge Ben’s face. It doesn’t take much concentration to think of it; his perfect eyes and chiseled jaw are still permanently burned in my memory. How can anyone possibly forget a face so striking and strong? I still feel his fingers on me if I close my eyes. I’ve been closing my eyes a lot since Friday. “Late twenties, I’d say.”
Elijah snorts. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? He’s just a few years older than us—”
“It’s still six or seven years,” I point out. “Maybe eight.”
“—and he’s loaded, and you hightailed it out of there? On account of him being a ‘prick’? Did he insult your pretty hair or something?” I shoot Elijah a look. He chortles and parries, as if I’d physically swung a hand at him. “Just joshin’ ya!”
“We leave in five minutes,” I remind him.
Elijah picks up his little demon—sorry, I mean cat—from the floor and leans against the doorframe, petting the tiny monster. “You know, Mr. Gage might be in the office today, but it doesn’t mean we’re gonna meet him. We’re just interns.”
“I’m well aware what we are.”
“I heard from Tyson that Mr. Gage didn’t even speak a word to his last batch. Like, not one word. The man keeps to his office … goes to meetings … We may never even see him.”
Oh, I’ll make sure he sees me. I stiffen up and fix some rogue strands of hair right at the top of my head—my evil cowlicks. “You’re gonna have cat hair all over you,” I warn him.
He ignores the warning. “At least tell me you got a little bit of ass that night.”
Yes, this is how my straight roommate and I actually talk. And I’m sure he’s getting a thrill with the fact that his totally clean, never-dates, by-the-book best friend finally had the potential to get some tail.
And then freaked out and bolted for the door.
And didn’t drop to his knees in front of that steamy mountain of muscle.
And didn’t latch his mouth onto that man’s sculpted, meaty pecs, his tongue lapping over his sexy, hardened nipples.
And didn’t spin that beefy man around and bury his face in his glorious, pert ass.
I lean against the bathroom counter to stifle the boner I just gave myself. The pressure only succeeds in making me harder. I swear, my cock is a total rebel punk lately. Something is very wrong with me, and it’s all Ben’s fault.
“Uh …” Elijah’s eyes are wide. “I’m gonna take the ringing silence to mean that you did get some ass, and it was so bad, you can’t even bring yourself to talk about it. Was his wiener, like, two and a half inches hard or something?”
His cat Salamander, comfortable in his throne of Elijah’s arms, glares at me through the mirror; I feel his evil little feline eyes resenting my existence. “For a straight guy, you’re pretty damned caught up in the size of my date’s penis.”
“Hey, I know you gay dudes. Size is important.”
“No, it isn’t, actually. I don’t care how big or little his … dick is.” Even to Elijah, speaking so openly makes me uncomfortable, as if I’m afraid some imaginary principal or parent or boss lurks around the corner, ready to scold me for my unprofessionalism. “Besides, from the tiny glimpse I got of his package, he was big.”
“Oh, damn.” Elijah laughs, finding that funny apparently. “A rich guy with a big dick, who is a dick. Isn’t that a recipe for hot?”
“I’m done discussing dick with you.” I decide my hair isn’t getting any less cowlicky. “Better be ready to go. It’s time.”
“Some of the interns and I might go out for a drink after our shift today. Just one little drink.” When I stare at him dubiously, his hand freezes on the cat’s head, an eyebrow lifting. “Hey, you’re welcome to come, buddy. It’s why I’m telling you.”
“You and ‘some of the interns’?” I throw back. “You’re already making friends at the office, are you?”
“It’s important to get along with your coworkers.”
He sounds exactly like Ben, who threw that same exact advice in my face when I couldn’t stop blubbering to him about my own work problems. My face reddens, recalling all that awkwardness of Friday night. “I guess you’re right. Too bad they all hate me.”
“Nah, they don’t hate you.”
I move past him—his cat glaring at me the whole way—and with a pat on Elijah’s shoulder, I whisper, “Put on your game face, buddy. Today, we’re gonna remind ourselves what we’re doing all of this for,” before throwing my messenger bag over a shoulder and heading for the door.
I have a boss to impress.