I wake up restless, even though it’s my day off. I helped set up a complicated shoot yesterday, so I spent all day at the studio. Bear told me he doesn’t want to see me the rest of the week. That means I find myself strangely bored on a Friday morning.

I could go to the gym. I usually go at least three times a week, and my latest workout was two days ago, but I really don’t feel like it. I hauled around some heavy stuff yesterday, and my muscles are already somewhat sore.

A quick glance around my apartment confirms that it doesn’t really need cleaning, and I’m caught up on laundry as well. Seriously, when did I become this boring, walking and talking commercial for urban middle class life? Well, aside from the fact that I make my money in porn, of course.

No, I don’t want to do something useful today. I want to do something fun. I need to do something fun, if only to prove to myself I haven’t fully transformed into this nine-to-five, responsible adult. Yikes.

Something fun. But what? And with whom? As soon as I think it, I know who I want to hang out with. I gotta come up with a good reason, though, because if I call him to ask him to hang out for a whole day, he won’t do it. He’ll balk, get suspicious. I don’t know why he keeps doing that, but I know he does.

I need to figure out an excuse. What if I…? Yeah, that should work. I make a few quick calls and have the whole thing set up in under fifteen minutes. My boys really are the best, even when they have no idea why I’m doing this.

It’s time for the final call. I laugh when I see the picture I chose for his name: a banana. He’ll never get rid of that association.

“Hey,” he answers, sounding rather sleepy.

“Good morning, sunshine. Were you awake yet or did I wake you up?”

He yawns loudly. “I was...somewhat awake.”

“Well, time to rise and shine, banana boy. Me and some of the boys are hanging out today, and I figured you’d want to come.”

He’s quiet for a second, and then lets out a sexy laugh. “Will there be coming involved?”

“Holy fuck, you and your dirty mind. Not everything is about sex, you know?”

“You’re asking me to hang out with a bunch of porn stars, but you want to keep it PG? So not gonna happen.”

I sigh. He’s actually right about that. Me and the boys have been known to get a little...handsy every now and then. “Okay, there will be coming, at least for you, okay?”

“You’re bribing me with sex?”

“Dude, there are porn stars. Why would you need bribing?”

“All right, all right, all right,” he says with laughter sprinkled all over his voice. “Where do I meet you?”

I had planned to pick him up, but maybe it’s better this way. Less of a commitment for him. “You know the Wonderland Arcade?”

“Are you kidding me? I used to live there as a kid. Only happy place I ever had.”

He’s quiet after that unexpected revelation, undoubtedly because he revealed a bit more than he intended to. I think the best strategy is to pretend I didn’t pick up on it. “Awesome. We’re meeting there at noon.”

I almost hold my breath, knowing he’s one second away from blowing me off.

“Okay, see you there,” he says, and I exhale.

When I arrive slightly after noon—arriving exactly on time is pretty much impossible with the unpredictable traffic here—Troy is already there. Dressed in faded jean shorts, a tight-fitting white T-shirt, and a pair of beaten up Converse, he looks edible.

He’s talking to Brewer and Campy, and as I walk up, Pixie and Heart arrive as well. Tank isn’t coming, of course. He doesn’t do much social stuff, and especially not when he knows Brewer is coming.

We do the usual round of hugging and somewhat-manly back slaps, and I formally introduce Troy to the others. I can tell he’s a little star struck, but he holds his own as we grab some hot dogs from the best hot dog vendor in LA. He even manages to hold a more-or-less intelligent conversation with Campy, who turns out to be a big-time gamer like Troy himself. Who knew?

“What’s your favorite game?” Campy tries to drag me into their conversation.

I scratch the stubble on my chin. “Erm, Angry Birds?” I joke. “I haven’t played video games since high school, for real. And even back then, it wasn’t really my thing. But I love these arcade games.”

Campy mumbles something about me being a heathen, whatever that means, but Troy merely laughs at me. “You just haven’t found the right game yet,” he says with confidence.

We make our way inside the arcade, and my eyes are drawn to a huge, old-fashioned pinball machine. “Now there’s a game I love,” I say with deep satisfaction. “You game?”

Troy nods. “Bring it on.”

I do pretty well on my first try, but when it’s Troy’s turn, he absolutely slays it. I watch him while he’s playing, completely focused on what the balls are doing. He even whispers encouragements that turn into louder cheers as the game progresses. Hot damn, he’s good at this.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Pixie asks me softly.

I hadn’t even noticed him standing next to me, totally engrossed in watching Troy. “No,” I say quickly. “We’re friends with benefits, sort of.”

“He’s hot,” Pixie observes. “I’d totally let him fuck me.”

My head shoots sideways, and my eyes meet Pixie’s, who’s grinning. “Just friends with benefits, huh? Keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s complicated,” I say defensively.

“It always is,” is Pixie’s answer. There’s too much wisdom and sadness in his voice, considering how young he is.

“You’re new to this, baby-boy, but having a relationship is hard when you’re doing porn. Most men have a big issue with their boyfriend having sex with others, even if it’s for a job.”

His gorgeous misty eyes turn sad. “Yeah, I can imagine. Then again, having a relationship is hard even when you’re not doing porn, you know?”

I want to hug him, but instead I rub his neck a little. He lets out a little sigh. He’s a tactile one, our little imp. Does he even realize himself how much he loves being touched? Even with this little gesture of my scratching his neck, he steps closer to me, as if to make sure I have full access.

Troy raises his hands and lets out a loud cheer. “I broke my record!”

I let go of Pixie and step closer to look at his score. My eyes grow big. “That’s your score? You didn’t just break your own record, you broke the record on this damn machine!”

He spins around and suddenly lifts me in a bear hug, smacking a fat kiss on my lips. “I sure did, babycakes!”

Babycakes? What alien has taken over Troy’s body and mind? He lets out a happy laugh and lets go of me to take in high fives from the others.

“I’m not even gonna bother after that,” Campy says, laughing.

“Come on, I’ll let you beat my ass on this retro Pac-Man they got,” Troy says.

“And such a fine ass it is,” Brewer says, licking his lips. I smack the back of his head in true Leroy Jethro Gibbs style—I love me some NCIS. If I’m the stern Gibbs, that would make Brewer the goofball and playboy DiNozzo, and damn, that fits him to a T.  

“You guys fighting over my ass now?” Troy asks, turning around and shaking his butt. “Keep going, this does wonders for my ego.”

“There is nothing wrong with your ego,” I grumble.

“Nothing wrong with your ass either,” Brewer fires back.

“Mine or his?” Troy wants to know.

Brewer pretends to think about it. “Well, Rebel here has got a nice ass, but I’ve tapped it already. I’m always interested in fresh meat.”

For some reason, his incessant flirting suddenly irritates me. It’s irrational, because I don’t have exclusive rights to Troy. Hell, we haven’t even mentioned the word exclusive. I can pretty much guess how fast he’s gonna run when I utter that red-flag word.

Still, I want Brewer to stop, because he’s really hot, and he’s got all these cool tattoos, and he’s the perfect happy fuckboy for Troy, and what if Troy decides he likes him better? I run out of breath in my head to think, and all that time Brewer is studying me with a look that says he knows. He knows this is messing with my head, and he’s thoroughly enjoying this.

“I’m so gonna propose a scene with you and Tank to Bear,” I say and watch with satisfaction as Brewer pales.

Troy sends me a cocky grin and saunters off with Campy. “Just friends with benefits, huh?” Pixie repeats his earlier remark, and I don’t know whether to slap him or hug him.