14
KAGE and I got out the door in 20 minutes, and somehow we managed not to speak another word to each other until we were out of the hotel room. He still seemed to be in his chipper mood, while I was still brooding over what happened. I really needed to get past the ridiculous idea that somehow things had changed between me and him. If he had indeed meant what I thought he had meant, he wouldn’t be acting like there was nothing amiss.
Since we were in the middle of the shopping district of sorts, there were plenty of restaurants to choose from. There was a little Italian eatery on the corner near our hotel, an Ethiopian place in the next shopping center over, and the requisite Asian buffet took up what looked to be a whole city block. But the thing that caught Kage’s eye was a little 1950s style diner with a checkerboard sign and about 10 booths in total. It had an old-fashioned soda fountain at the front with red vinyl barstools, and the workers wore white aprons and black and white striped paper hats. The tables were made of that old-fashioned gray Formica that I remember seeing in my grandmother’s kitchen before she had remodeled.
I wasn’t so sure this would have been my first choice, but the gleeful expression on Kage’s face won me over. The guy wanted to buy me a burger. Who was I to say no?
“You sit right there, and I’ll go order.” He gestured me toward a booth near the door. I really wanted to order for myself, but I sat down to humor him and watched as he strutted up to the counter with a spring in his step that made me chuckle to myself. He really was enjoying this. A few minutes later, he returned to the table with a big smile on his face and a tray loaded down with food.
“There’s a lot of grease on that tray,” I said, eyeing the two enormous burgers piled so high with fixings they were in danger of toppling over. A boat of fries sat between them, and they were flanked by monstrous 42 ounce cups of soda— the old red and white paper cups that collapse if you let them get too soggy. Kage was so utterly pleased with himself, even my grease comment couldn’t dislodge his smile. The glitter of excitement in his eyes was contagious, and soon we were both smiling like jackasses. “This looks delicious,” I told him, licking my chops at the sight of the strips of bacon dripping down the sides of the burgers. “What all did you order on these, everything they had in the kitchen?”
“Not quite.” He picked up his soda and took a sip. “I left off the chili and onions, and I ordered no tomatoes on yours.”
I raised a brow. “How did you know I don’t like tomatoes?”
Cage didn’t bat an eye. “It’s no mystery, Jamie. I’ve watched you choke them down for me, but I know you don’t like them. I never said anything before because they’re really good for you. I had hoped you would like them if you ate them enough times.”
“I’m afraid not. I tried, but there’s something about them I just can’t like.”
“Yeah, that’s how I feel about asparagus.” He took another sip of his soda, and indicated mine. “Have you tried your soda? It’s vanilla root beer.” I picked it up and sipped absently at it.
“But you eat asparagus all the time.”
“That’s because it’s good for me.”
I shook my head. “It never ceases to amaze me how much self-control you have. You push yourself to the limit in training day after day, pushing so hard for a goal that hasn’t even begun to materialize. But you keep the faith. And you eat things you don’t like because they’re good for you, and you resist the temptation for things that are bad for you, even though you love them. Case in point, that vanilla root beer. I swear your eyes roll back in your head every time you take a swallow.”
Kage chuckled. “We both know I have my vices. One of them in particular is becoming impossible to resist.” He braced his feet on the edge of my seat, his boots just brushing my thighs. “But then you’re well aware of that, aren’t you?”
I felt the room closing in on me. Why did he have to say things that sounded so much like innuendo? And he was so damn good at it, aiming that sexy half-smirk across the table at me. It was getting to the point that every time he looked at me with an ounce of intent, my dick started getting hard— like it was right there in the old-fashioned hamburger joint beneath the gray Formica table top.
I need to get to the bathroom. Get myself under control.
I made a move to get up, but Kage was a step ahead of me as usual. Before I could do much more than twitch, he’d secured my forearm to the table with his strong grip. “Eat your burger. It’s getting cold.”
He wasn’t so much forceful as he was resolute, and I couldn’t help thinking that he knew. That he was well aware of why I was trying to escape to the bathroom, and he didn’t care. He just wanted me to eat, so that’s what I would do.
My hard-on and I stayed in the booth, and I ate half of my burger like a good boy. The other half went into a Styrofoam doggy box that I carried under my arm as we strolled languidly back to our hotel. The idea of finding a club was forgotten for the moment, and we were just two guys walking along without a care, breathing in the air of a strange city. Funny how being in an unfamiliar place can make you brave— make you do things you wouldn’t normally do— things you just might regret when you get back to the real world.
That’s what my whole summer with Kage was like. One long string of things I might regret.