I skipped the club opening and sat in the middle of the living room in my underwear, smoking a hookah and staring at my iPad.
Val focusing on training meant Val seeing much less, if any, of me, and I couldn’t let that happen. Especially after he’d apologized and been so sweet.
It was a completely selfish thought process, and when I thought back to the limited time we’d spent together in the past several months, every moment had centered around me. Him coming to get me at four or five in the morning when I was drunk and weepy, or him reluctantly agreeing to attend a party with me.
There were very few circumstances of him just coming to my apartment for a Netflix and chill session, and it had been that way since his mother had passed away. On the other hand, I doubted he had enough free hours to even have a Netflix and chill session with me, even if I forewent my usual social activities.
With that realization in mind, I launched into Operation Olympian. Also known as me staying home and trolling the internet for an intense boot camp program or gym we could go to together.
The problem was, I didn’t know anyone in the Bronx and I had no idea what neighborhood was convenient for him. Looking at places along the Grand Concourse was the best bet, and I absolutely fell in love with a spot south of Yankee Stadium on Walton Avenue. It was in a building that had once been a warehouse, and boasted everything from a yoga studio to obstacle courses and rock climbing, to the typical weight and cardio rooms. There was an added bonus of private changing rooms with showers. The best part was that since it was a new gym, or “resort gym” as they called it, they wanted to spread the word, so new members could bring a guest for free. After sending an email to the manager of the space, I shot Val another text message.
Ashton: Hey, when is your next day off from the cab company?
Val: Thursday
Ashton: K
Val: Why?
Ashton: Just want to make sure I don’t bug you when you’re busy. Sorry to bother you again, darling!
Val: It’s fine . . . later
Thursday it was. Well, if the manager got back to me and approved my membership. My backup plan was going for runs with him. It was another thing we’d done together in the past, back when he’d gone to Long Island with me during the summers. He’d run twice a day—before dawn and around dusk, and I’d gone out with him in the evening. Running was therapeutic for me the way yoga was for others, but seeing Val shirtless and covered in sweat was always a gift. Back then, he’d had no idea how goddamn gorgeous he was. Completely oblivious to the scores of thirsty rich women in the Hamptons who’d been dying to get their hands on him. After I’d broken the news that he was a total fox and everyone knew it, he’d been too shy to keep running around shirtless. He’d hated the attention and had rebuffed all my efforts to find somewhere private we could pick up the routine.
I lay on my back with the hookah’s hose in one hand and my eyes closed.
Part of me wondered whether he would reject my efforts now. Tell me his training had nothing to do with me, and I was just complicating his life by trying to intrude in it. But if that was the case, why would he go out of his way to reassure me that he still wanted to be in my life?
It was times like these that I wished things could go back to the way they’d been when we were younger. Before Mrs. Leka had died. Things had been simple then. He’d actually gone out of his way to spend time with me, asking about my plans and offering to come with me if I’d wanted, but all of that had changed after we’d slept together. And I still had no idea why. Other than quitting modeling, I was the same as I’d always been, with the rest of the world and with him, even though those two aspects of my personality were so different. But maybe that was part of the problem.
Maybe he was waiting for me to grow up and to develop goals of my own, instead of following him around while I spent my own life drifting between social events. But I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. The only time I felt purposeful, or helpful, was when I donated to foundations and charities, and even then I was afraid to do much more. Despite what Nunzio had said at Gateway, people tended to judge me based on what the gossip columns made of me, and while my money was good, there were times when my presence only led to a circus.
Or maybe it wasn’t about me having goals, and it had been the night we’d had sex. It was hard to regret what had happened between us when my heart had nearly imploded the first time he’d kissed me, but . . . maybe it had been the mistake that had changed everything. I hated the thought. There was nothing I wanted more than to be Val’s lover. Maybe it would sound pathetic to him or Meredith or even Charles, but I’d loved Val since we were children. I’d wanted to be his, and only his, since I’d been old enough to understand why the world was so much brighter when we were together.
The hookah’s hose clattered to the floor as I brought my hand up to run through my hair. Even thinking of that night sent heat funneling through my body, leaving tingling nerves in its wake. After all this time, I could still see his raw eyes and anguished face. The rage that had ripped out of him as his sadness and loss twisted into anger directed at my father. He’d asked why my father hadn’t come to the funeral when he’d been the reason Mrs. Leka had neglected her own health, and I’d sobbed while begging him to believe that I didn’t know. That it wasn’t my fault. That I’d loved her too.
I’d never seen Val cry, and the sight of his fists locked in his hair and his face streaked with tears had broken me.
So I’d tried to comfort him the only way I’d known how. By getting on my knees, and gazing up at him through my own tears while begging him to let me distract him. Make him feel good. Let me love him, although I’d never said that part.
At first, he’d lashed out—shoving me away and cursing me—but when I’d dragged him down into a teary embrace, he’d broken. Poured his grief into me in the form of a wet violent kiss, and had come alive as soon as we’d fallen to the carpet in a tangle of limbs. As soon as our bodies had pressed together, he’d become a man possessed, and his hands had been everywhere on my body. Even now, I felt the phantom touch of his body against mine. Hands in my hair, tongue in my mouth, hips grinding against my own. And then the way he’d torn at my clothes, impatient and desperate, before flipping me onto my hands and knees.
I shivered, ignoring my erection, and pushed myself up into a sitting position. Jerking off to that night was forbidden. Especially when it was potentially the moment that had forever altered our friendship. I’d save the Val-related masturbation for fantasies about how amazing he’d feel on me, and inside of me, when we weren’t both turned inside out by devastation and heartbreak.
I put my hookah away and turned off the iPad. It was nearly eleven o’clock, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I planned to start going to bed and waking up early. If I was serious about Operation Olympian, it had to be done. The gossip magazines and blogs would have to live without me for a couple of nights.
On Thursday morning, I woke up at six o’clock, took a cab to Columbus Circle, and took the D train to Yankee Stadium. It should have been an easy walk to Val’s apartment since Google Maps had told me it only took ten minutes, but climbing the stairs to the street was more confusing than I’d expected. Even with the stadium looming behind me as a giant landmark, my failed sense of direction wasn’t helping me to figure out which way to walk to reach my destination. I refused to use my phone’s navigation like a tourist.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I made a decision at random and began walking. It was a busy area with a McDonald’s on one corner, and several shops along the stretch of the road, but the facades and signs changed abruptly as soon as I crossed the Grand Concourse. Instead of stores that had obviously been around for years, the closer I got to the courthouses, the more gourmet sandwich shops with glass fronts appeared. It was even busier around here, with a steady stream of people hurrying along the sidewalk, and I marveled at how people from all walks of life converged on this one block. Police, correction officers, people in suits and ties, groups of people speaking different languages as they waited outside the court or to cross the wide street, and clusters of teenagers on their way to school.
I was so distracted by everyone around me, and by taking in a neighborhood I’d never been in before, that I walked three blocks past Val’s apartment and had to double back. He was on the second floor of a brick building with seven stories. There was nothing special about it other than the fact that my favorite person lived there, and that the lock was broken, which was unsafe but also convenient for me to slide in unannounced.
There were a few teenagers standing by the mailboxes in the lobby, and they paused in their examination of their cell phones to give me odd looks. I smiled and waved, and their expressions grew skeptical before quickly averting their eyes. They probably thought I was lost. It suddenly occurred to me that there might have been a reason why Val never invited me over. Maybe he didn’t want to be associated with a freakishly tall and thin person with long blond hair who wore ankle-length trench coats and was sometimes a topic on TMZ. But it was too late for that now, so I climbed the stairs and knocked on his door twice before shoving my hands back into my pockets. I glanced up and down the hallway, but Val’s door opened before anyone else appeared.
He’d obviously just rolled out of bed judging by his messy hair and not-quite-awake expression. He was wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs. I didn’t pretend to not blatantly stare at his dick.
“This is how you answer the door?”
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“On you or other guys?” I asked, still staring.
Val scoffed and stood aside so I could enter. “Both.”
“Hmm.” I slipped inside but kept my hands in my pockets, not going deeper into the dark apartment. “I don’t know, Val. It’s been a few days. Maybe you should take it out so I can make sure all five senses are remembering correctly.”
“You wish.”
He turned away and walked quickly to his bedroom. I took the opportunity to admire the strong stretch of his back, his tight ass, and his thighs. So solid and thick that I’d never stop wanting to hump them. Like ever.
I looked around his apartment instead of continuing to fantasize about his naked body. The building wasn’t far from the one he’d shared with his mother and Hana, but the unit itself wasn’t as bright and cluttered. It was small and had fewer windows than I’d have liked, but it was exactly what I’d pictured for him. Tidy and Spartan, but cozy nonetheless. I could easily picture us curled up on his multicolored plaid couch with a blanket over us as we watched television and ate breakfast. Or at the tiny dinette as we had dinner with Hana. His bedroom was the less interesting part of the small space, likely because he only used it to conk out after his increasingly long days. I also thought the bed was way too small for him, let alone for what I’d want to do with him on it.
And why was I hallucinating about a time in life when we’d be playing house together in his apartment? I had issues.
“What are you doing here, Ashton?” he asked, grabbing a pair of sweatpants.
“I wanted to see you,” I said. “And I wanted to surprise you.”
“I don’t like surprises.” Val removed a white T-shirt from a drawer that was fully stacked with white T-shirts, all folded with military precision. “I told you I’m busy. I don’t want to be a jerk or anything, but I need to focus.”
“I know you need to focus, so that’s why—”
“Unless something happened,” he said, cutting me off. “Is your brother still being a problem?”
My brother was still waiting for me to carry on the seduction of Brett Decker, but I wasn’t going to bring that up and spoil my plans with Val. He’d said he would stop being so overprotective, but judging from the sparks already increasing in his steely gaze, he wasn’t going to have as easy a time with that as he seemed to expect.
“It has nothing to do with my brother. I wanted to see my favorite person, and I thought of a way I could do that without hindering your goals and routine.” When Val gave me the blankest look he could muster, I unbuttoned my trench coat and whipped it off to reveal running shorts and an Under Armour shirt. “How do I look?”
Val rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wandering over my outfit. It was practically molded to my body, and his attention kept returning to the definition in my arms before dropping to my crotch. He wasn’t the only one showing off this morning.
“Want to see it from the back?” I asked, grinning. “I can do a model spin.”
“Shut up.” Val jerked open a drawer and stared into it for a long second before putting on some socks. “You came over to show me your new workout clothes?”
“No, silly goose.” I threw out my arms. “We’re doing hard-core boot camp for the next month!”
Val’s mouth twitched. “Is that so?”
“Yup. There’s this really fancy resort gym on Walton Avenue—”
“Oh brother. One of the places people in the neighborhood can’t afford to go to?”
I frowned. “I didn’t think about that.” And, now, I was wondering why I hadn’t thought of it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re not from around here. It’s just easy to see how developers are already trying to take over this fucking place. The parts closest to Manhattan, anyway.”
“Okay . . .” I chewed on my lower lip, no longer sure of myself or the brilliance of my idea. “I got a membership. It has obstacle courses, rock climbing, a pool, weight room—”
“Wait.” Val’s brow drew down. “You paid for this?”
“Yes,” I said moving closer to him. “And before you go on a rampage about money and handouts, I paid for my own membership, and I get to bring a free guest for a limited time.” When Val still looked skeptical, I went on, “The place looks fun, and I’m making a conscious effort to use this as a way to get healthy as well. I’ll mostly go in the morning, so less staying out all night.” When some of the tension left his shoulders, I grinned. “See? Works for both of us. And I get to be around you.”
“Why is it so important to you to spend time with me?”
“That’s an irritating question, babes.”
“No, it’s not. I was an overbearing dick to you last time you saw me.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But . . . sometimes I’m dumb and it’s annoying.”
Val frowned. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true and you know it.”
“It’s not true,” he said, and didn’t push me away when I draped my arms over his shoulders, bringing our chests together. “But does that mean you’re not going to—”
“Can we not talk about that now?” I pressed my forehead to his, our faces so close our eyelashes mingled together. “I’m in an awesome mood, and I don’t want it to be ruined by speaking of Dylan or Brett.”
His mouth drew down at the sides, but he nodded, and only rolled his eyes when I brushed my lips to his in a brief teasing kiss.
“Okay,” I said, spinning away from him. “Let’s go!”