“Stay the night,” said Karl.

They lay together on the couch, naked by now, cocks sticky with saliva and drying cum, their cock heads shyly touching.

Karl had never felt like this before. The excitement of that night in the tent was one thing. And the secretive joy of declaring his love was another. But this? This was the greatest he had ever felt, lying here with his lover, spent and exhausted but still interested in more. Thus far they had only used their mouths, but there was a bottle of lube in his sock drawer, and maybe Burns would be up to going further tonight, although Karl knew it would take some coaching and reassurance, because his friend was so new to this, so skittish, so pure and innocent in a way Karl had never realized would be such a turn-on.

“I wish I could,” said Burns.

“Then do it. You’re a grown man. See your cock down there? That’s the cock of a fully mature man in his sexual prime. You get to make these decisions on your own.”

“I know, but—”

Karl winced and looked away. Don’t press too hard. If he argues with you, it’ll ruin the moment.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“I really want to,” said Burns. “God, there’s so much I want to do with you. To you. All these things I’ve read about, or saw on videos, but—”

“All right, eager boy, we have time to get to them.” Karl kissed him lightly on the nose.

“Was it okay?” asked Burns. “Sucking you, I mean?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure? I wasn’t positive I was doing it right, and—”

“Are you worried? Trust me, that was good. Definitely in the top 25 blowjobs I’ve ever received.”

Burns scowled. “Top 25? I really put my back into it. I’d think I’d be number seven at least.”

“Thomas Burns, are you jealous?”

He blinked. “Am I? Holy shit, I am. I am lying here actually mad that you have had partners before me.”

“Is it too late to lie and say I’m a virgin?” asked Karl.

“No, I’m afraid you’ll have to let me know all the guys you’ve slept with in your life, so that I can hunt them down.”

“Oh, that’ll take a while,” said Karl, smiling.

“How…long?”

“There must be hundreds.”

“Hundreds?”

“Thousands.”

“Thousands!”

Burns’ expression delighted Karl.

“You big lug,” he said, “what are you worried about? I spend my whole day reading, not trolling for hook-ups. Trust me, I’m almost pure as the driven snow.”

“I don’t know,” said Burns, “I kind of like being jealous. It feels like a little fire inside my chest.”

“That’s probably heartburn from all the cum you swallowed.”

Burns sighed, his face falling. “I do wish I didn’t have to go.”

“I know. I don’t want to think about it.”

“I’m going to do it, though. I’m going to tell them I’m going to be roommates with you.”

Karl grimaced. “Roommates.”

“I can’t tell them…about us.”

He wanted to argue the point. Burns’ parents were actively evil if they couldn’t accept his sexuality. If they were going to throw him out or disown him over this, wouldn’t it be better to get it out in the open, get it over with? What was the point of putting it off, of having this dark, ominous cloud overhead?

But he couldn’t argue. He didn’t know what would happen if he pushed too hard. He might push Burns away. That would be truly awful.

This was awful enough. He hated the way it tugged at him, the way it tried to steal the joy from this moment. Because now he was keeping a secret too, and he hated secrets.

Why couldn’t Burns just see that Karl was right? That what Karl believed—in openness, honesty, in the importance of gay rights and acceptance—was the right thing to believe? The good thing?

“You do like me, right?” he said finally.

Burns looked startled. Karl hadn’t realized how long the silence had stretched between them.

“Of course I do,” said Burns. “I love you. I’ve never felt like this before.”

Don’t cry. Don’t get emotional.

“Me either,” Karl admitted.

Are you sure you love me? Maybe I’m not quite good enough? Maybe if it were somebody else, you’d be willing to tell the world? If I were a normal person, would you like me more?

* * *

“I’d like you to give me another chance,” said Karl.

Jay wouldn’t even make eye contact. She was busy tapping something into her keyboard. “I think I heard all I need to hear yesterday,” she told him.

It had taken a lot for him to come in again this morning. He’d thought about it all night, after Burns went home and he’d been left alone, wired, his nerves all firing with loneliness, needing to distract himself.

So he’d put his blazer and tie back on, printed another copy of his resume, and gone back to Cray Reliable.

“Yesterday didn’t work out right,” he said. “You were surprised, I was surprised. I spent too much time trying to apologize. It made things awkward, and I’m sorry for that.”

She finally looked at him. “You’re apologizing for apologizing?”

“I’m apologizing for all of it. When I get nervous, I run off at the mouth. I just start talking, and I can’t stop.”

The look she gave him wasn’t sympathetic, but nor was it as icy as the one she’d given him yesterday. “Mr. Bowden, don’t you think that might be a liability at any job?”

He sat in the chair by her desk. “Probably. Yes. I don’t know. I just felt so guilty, you know? I have really strong opinions about coffee. Hell, I have really strong opinions about everything, it seems like. But that doesn’t mean I have the right to ruin your day because of it.”

She sighed. “Look, I don’t think you should waste your time. I’m sure you mean well, in your own odd way. But you really don’t want me to interview you again, I promise you.”

He felt so crestfallen. Isn’t there anything I can fix in my life? I can’t even get my own boyfriend to admit that he’s mine.

“Isn’t there anything I can do to change your mind?” he said. “Everyone’s so disappointed in me.”

“Do you know what the number one predictor of job success is, Mr. Bowden?”

He glanced furtively around the room, as though the answer might be written somewhere close by. “A good job interview?”

“No. Absolutely not. The best predictor of performance is your last job. That’s why I don’t think we should delude ourselves and talk about another chance. Forget that it was me you insulted. I’m over it. But I can’t ignore what I saw in that coffee shop. You have a temper, Mr. Bowden.”

“What? No I don’t!”

“You’re telling me you start going off on people when you get nervous, but I saw you. You weren’t nervous, you were angry. Someone saw that you weren’t doing a good job, it hit you right in your insecurities, and you got mad.”

He looked away. “I don’t think I’m an angry person,” he said.

“Anger isn’t the problem. Everyone gets mad. The problem is, you don’t even recognize the emotion, because you’re too wrapped up in justifying yourself.”

He scowled. “Suddenly you’re a psychologist?”

Her thin smile was infuriating and smug. “I have a bachelor’s in psychology, yes. Oh, see, you already have a come-back ready for that, don’t you? Something about the inadequacy of psychology as a major, perhaps?”

Holy shit, she’s a mind-reader. He sat staring at her for a moment. He wasn’t sure what to say. He felt caught, trapped.

It was one thing to bomb an interview, still another to come back in for a second chance and get dragged across the coals.

“I’m not mad right now,” he said. “At least, I don’t think I am.”

“Forget the degree,” she said. “I’ve also got a lifetime’s experience in dating guys. It’s always the ones that think they’re right that are the problem. You’re so busy trying to prove your points, that you forget to look at your own emotions. You’ve got no insight.”

“I have plenty of insight!” Don’t I? How am I feeling right now? Confused. Upset. But it’s all a vague mush that feels bad. I wish Burns were here.

There. That was a clear feeling. That longing for Burns was uncomplicated, a loud clear voice in his soul, crying out.

“This is so inappropriate,” she said. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you like this. You don’t deserve it. You realize that, don’t you? You’re asking me to give you another chance, but what are you going to do the minute things get stressful on the job? You’ll be distributing charity, for god’s sake. Are you going to blow up at some poor people? Give them a lecture about how they should spend the money?”

“That’s not my fault, charity is an awful way to redistribute wealth, we need a governmental program—”

“See? You’re doing it again. I’m talking about your character, and you’re jumping over to issues. That’s why you can’t have the job, Mr. Bowden.”

“You know, you’re not exactly without anger yourself,” he said. “You yelled at me last time.”

She frowned. “Indeed I did.”

“You were mad, because I wouldn’t stop bringing up the coffee shop.”

“Yes, your refusal to stay on topic was bothersome.”

“But see, that’s okay, right? You got mad, you even yelled a little—totally unprofessional, but I forgive you—and now it’s okay. Maybe it’s the same for me. Maybe it’s the same for anybody. You get a little mad, you calm down, the world keeps turning.”

She shook her head. “That’s not the way it works. I’m the gatekeeper here, and I’m not convinced at all that you would work out. That you wouldn’t just blow up at someone.”

“Give me a chance. Please?” He couldn’t believe himself. A week ago he wouldn’t have even set foot in this place, the way it reeked of greed and exploitation, but here he was, begging for a job.

I can’t fail at everything. I need Simon to be proud of me. At least that would be one good thing.

She looked down at his resume. It was so brief, it didn’t take her long. “Simon Bowden, the relative you have listed here as a reference…that’s the same Simon Bowden that runs the records department?”

“I don’t even want to answer that. I’m not trying to use my family to get a job here.”

“The same Simon Bowden who is engaged to Vice President Evan Cray?”

“I’m really not trying to use nepotism here. I haven’t dropped their names even once.”

She glanced up. “That’s true, you haven’t. Which is a little weird, if you ask me.”

“I thought it’d be better to get the job on my own merits.”

“Even though your merits are lacking.”

“I’m trying to demonstrate persistence right now,” he said, smiling weakly.

She nodded. “You know what? I’m going to recommend you for the job. Not because I think you’ll be good at it, but because I can’t have you mooning outside my office every single day. I think you’re going to fail pretty badly at it. But I won’t get any heat for it, because if anyone asks, I’ll say I had to hire you, thanks to your family connections.”

“God, don’t say that.”

“What, you don’t want the whole company to know you’re being hired because of who you know?”

“That’s so gross,” he said. “Networking and all that, it’s such a scam.”

She laughed. “You are going to hate it here. But you know what? If you somehow manage to do a good job, then I’ll never have to tell anyone you were only hired because of your brother and Mr. Cray. How is that for motivation?”