My fingers fly over my computer keys as I work to finish my coding project at the last minute. I would’ve gotten it done weeks ago, but between frequent hook-ups with Rebel and working on my own game with Mason, some of my classwork has fallen a tad behind schedule.

The weird thing has been that it’s not just the sex with Rebel that seems to be taking up a large chunk of time. It’s random Tuesday nights when he wants me to come over and watch a movie with him. At first, I thought that was just code for fucking around. But it didn’t take long to realize that when Rebel wants to fuck, he says that’s what he’s calling for. And when he says he wants to watch a movie, you’d better believe he’s keeping his hands to himself, and we’re watching a movie.

It’s weird as hell, and I don’t know what to make of it. It’s also kind of nice. Not that I’ll admit that out loud, even under threat of torture. But just knowing that it’s true is enough to make me squirm.

I type out the last few lines of code and then shake out the cramps in my hands. Holy hell, I need to remember not to leave shit like this till the last minute again.

I check the time and realize I need to get to class. I close my laptop and shove it into my messenger bag along with my notebooks that I take to class even though I never handwrite notes. Then I pull on some fresh clothes and head out the door.

I slip into my usual seat in the back of the classroom only a few minutes after the bell rings, so more or less the same time I usually make it. Mason shoots me a look I’ve come to expect each time I’m late for class. The strange thing is, I kind of like having someone I can count on for something. Even if the thing I’m counting on is for him to be annoyed at me.

I’m trying to listen to my monotone professor when an iMessage pops up from Rebel.

Rebel: I’m horny

Troy: Lol, stop the presses. I’m in class, dude.

Rebel: Oh shit lol, sorry.

Rebel: So I guess it would be rude of me to send you a pic of my epic erection right now?

Troy: It seems rude to your erection to not let the little guy out to play

Rebel: Little????

Troy: Lol, I misspoke, not little. My ass can attest to that. Now, let’s see it

I wait with baited breath, unsure if he’s actually going to send me a dick pic while I’m in class. It’s a ballsy move, and Rebel’s just the kind of guy who would do it.

Seconds later, an image pops up, and I have to stifle a laugh at the sheer audacity of it. Rebel wasn’t wrong; this erection appears particularly epic, and I’m kind of bummed I’m in class and can’t help him take full advantage of it.

“Dude, are you looking at porn in class?” Mason whispers.

“Technically? I’m not exactly sure,” I answer with a chuckle.

Troy: Is it technically porn when you send me a dick pic?

Rebel: Dictionary definition yes because porn is any image or explicit description used for a sensual purpose (says Google). But in a colloquial sense, I’d say no because we don’t usually consider dick pics porn, we consider them “sexting”.

Troy: Is it weird that I’m even more turned on by how smart you sound right now than by your dick pic?

Rebel: Not to make this weird, and I know you’re allergic to emotions and shit, but that really means a lot to me to hear you say.

Troy: Yup, you made it weird. Lol.

Rebel:  Asshole

Troy: You like my asshole, dick.

Rebel: You like my dick

Troy: We seem to be at an impasse here. Maybe your dick and my asshole can work this out later.

Rebel: Count on it ;)

I close the chat window with one last longing look at the dick pic and once again try to focus on class.

* * *

I lift my fist to the door and deliver a few quick raps. I glance down at the paper clutched in my other fist and cringe inwardly. I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve read the note the guy gave me ahead of time.

The door swings open, and I brace myself for whatever I’m about to face. “Karen?” I check.

“Yeah, why?”

“Ryan has a message for you. I’m really sorry, these are his words, not mine,” I explain before lifting the paper up and reading from it. “Ten reasons I’m dumping your ass: One, you never go down on me…” I flinch as the words leave my lips. Oh damn, yeah, I really should’ve read this beforehand.

Karen gasps, and her face turns bright red.

“I don’t think you need to hear the rest of this.” I start to shove the paper into my pocket, but Karen stops me.

“No, tell me what it says,” she demands.

With extreme reluctance, I pull the paper back out and continue reading. “Two, you’ve got a fat ass...not in a good way.”

Her fists ball, and her eyes flash with rage.

“Three, I already fucked all your friends, so there’s not much reason to hang around anymore.”

I don’t see her fist coming, but as it crunches against my nose. I can’t even say I blame her. There’s no doubt in my mind I would’ve punched me too, if the situations were reversed.

“Fuck,” I yell, clutching my nose as blood pours through my fingers. The hateful list falls somewhere, and the door slams loudly in my face. I whip my shirt over my head and press it against my nose as I pull my phone out of my pocket.

That’s when I realize there’s no one I can call to take me to the hospital. My heart sinks at that thought. I probably have a broken nose, and I’m going to have to take an Uber to the hospital because I don’t have any friends. How pathetic am I?

I awkwardly try to wipe off some of the blood on my hand onto the t-shirt crumpled against my face. Then I pull out my phone and order a car. The driver gives me a dirty look when he notices I’m shirtless and bloody, but he doesn’t say anything for which I am grateful.

It takes ages for us to get to the hospital, because this is LA, and traffic is basically the tenth circle of hell. The bleeding slows by the time I get out of the car, but I can already feel my face swelling. There’s no doubt she broke my nose. I should have just handed her that mean-as-hell list and walked away.

Luckily, the emergency room is quiet tonight, so I only end up waiting with my t-shirt pressed to my face for about an hour before a nurse takes me to the back.

“I’m pretty sure my nose is broken. Do you need to take X-rays or something?”

“Actually, we don’t usually X-ray for a broken nose. If there’s been a recent trauma and the nose is swollen and bleeding, there’s a good bet it’s broken. So, what we’ll do is put you under a mild anesthesia, and one of our surgeons will be in to set and splint it. Now, I understand you came in alone. Is there someone who will be able to pick you up? You won’t be able to drive after the mild anesthetic.”

“Um…” I cast around my mind fruitlessly, trying to come up with a solution. I could order another Uber, but I doubt any of them would appreciate my drugged-up ass.

Mason would be a good option, but I don’t have his number. The only person I can think of who I sort of consider a friend and whose number I also have is Rebel. But he’s not exactly the type of friend I need to be calling when I need a favor.

“Can I stay here and sleep it off?” I ask in desperation.

The nurse gives me a skeptical look. “We don’t exactly have extra beds to offer up for outpatient procedures.”

“Fuck,” I sigh. Looks like I’m going to have to bite the bullet and call Rebel.

“Why don’t you sit tight, make some calls if you need to, and the doctor will be in shortly to get you taken care of.”

As soon as I’m alone, I call Rebel before I can chicken out.

“Hey, sexy,” Rebel greets in a playful tone. “Already dying for my cock in your ass again?”

In spite of the shame and pain currently burying me, my dick manages to take interest, hardening against my leg at the memory of Rebel’s erection stretching me wide and pounding me without mercy.

“Uh...” I clear my throat and try to conjure actual words and sentences. “This is really fucking embarrassing, but I need a favor, and I had literally no one else to call.”

“Is everything okay?” His tone has done a rapid one-eighty and is now full of concern.

“Kind of. I’m at the hospital, and I need a ride home in like an hour or two.”

“Oh my god, what happened? Is it serious? Which hospital?” Rebel asks, and I hear shuffling and keys jangling in the background. I tell him which hospital and that it’s only a minor injury. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” And then the phone goes dead.

I shove my phone in my pocket and lay back in the stiff hospital bed. As embarrassing as it is that I had to call Rebel, it’s kind of sweet that he was so willing to drop everything to come pick me up.

A few minutes later the nurse is back, with the doctor this time, and they’re shooting me up with the good stuff. I have no idea how long it takes them to fix my nose, but I do know I’m not feeling any pain as they do. When it’s over, there’s a big ass splint on my nose, and the drugs are just starting to wear off a little.

“Heeeeey,” I greet Rebel in a goofy, excited voice when I see him waiting for me. “You’re really hot.”

Rebel’s already blindingly handsome face lights with a smile, and I almost have to shield my eyes from his perfection.

“They gave you some good drugs, huh?”

“Yeah, I can’t feel my face,” I agree.

“Okay, let me figure out what we need to do to get you squared away, and then I’ll take you home.”

“Kay,” I mumble, slouching back on the bed where the nurse put me to wait until I could be discharged.

As the drugs continue to fade, and the quiet of the room starts to feel like an oppressive force, it hits me again how pathetic it was that I had to call a fuck buddy to pick me up from the hospital. Who knows what kind of plans Rebel had to cancel to come pick my sorry ass up. He probably thinks I’m a total loser with no friends, which is entirely accurate.

Rebel returns a few minutes later with a handful of paperwork. “You’re all set. Let me help you.”

He comes around to the side of the bed and helps me up. The nurse enters the room with a wheelchair seconds later and insists I ride it to the exit.

“Oh wait, doesn’t he have a shirt?” Rebel asks the nurse.

“Got all bloody,” I answer.

“Hold on, it’s a little chilly out.” Rebel takes his jacket and puts it over my shoulders. A strange warmth spreads out from my chest and to the tips of my fingers and toes. Those drugs must’ve been really good.

“It’s not chilly; we live in LA,” I argue half-heartedly.

Outside, Rebel opens the car door for me for some reason. It’s nice, but weird as hell.

“So who punched you?” he asks as soon as he’s in the driver seat.

“Some chick I was paid to dump. I deserved it.”

Rebel makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat that sends a little thrill through me.

Aside from the directions I give him to my place, Rebel and I don’t talk on the way there. I expect him to pull up in front of my building and let me out, but he insists on finding a parking spot.

“I’m fine, you don’t have to walk me in.”

“You’re drugged up and injured. I’m going to come in and make sure you’re settled. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”

“I don’t have tea.”

“Really? Why don’t you have tea? Isn’t that a staple?”

“No, because I’m not British.”

Rebel chuckles. “My mom always makes me tea when I’m not feeling well.”

My heart gives a little squeeze at the fondness in his tone when he mentions his mother. I wonder what it’s like to have someone in the world care about you that deeply. Someone who worries about your comfort and happiness. It seems like it would be nice…

But that’s for other people, not for me. Maybe I was a warlord or an asshole in a past life. Maybe there’s something ingrained in my DNA that makes me undesirable. Whatever the reason, I am unlovable. That’s life, and there’s no point dwelling on it.

“You really don’t have to come up. I have a shitty little apartment. It’s nothing like your place,” I tell him. “Plus, I’m obviously not up for fooling around.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

I scoff and shake my head but don’t argue further. If we keep hanging out without fucking around, what does that make us? Friends? Something else?

In my apartment, I cringe inwardly, imagining what Rebel must be thinking as he steps into the one room that holds my whole life. Usually when I have a guy in here, we’re too busy getting naked for me to worry what they think of my living space. And, beyond that, I can’t imagine I’d care what any of those randoms think anyway.

“If you don’t have tea, how about I make you some soup or something?”

“Why are you doing this?” I eye him skeptically.

“What? Do you want something more substantial? I can make a sandwich.”

“No, I mean why are you being so nice?”

Rebel’s eyebrows furrow, and the corners of his lips tug down in a frown. There’s a sharp sadness in his striking blue eyes that makes me want to shove him away or crawl into bed and hide for a week, anything to get away from the pity.

“We’re friends, right?” Rebel asks.

“You’ve had your dick in both my mouth and my ass.”

“So...best friends?”

I want to laugh, but the pain meds are starting to wear off, and my nose is starting to throb. “I’m not usually friends with guys I fuck around with,” I explain for what I feel like is the hundredth time since meeting Rebel.

“Then who are you usually friends with?”

My mouth opens and closes like a dumbass fish. I’m not sure if he was trying to throw shade, but damn if he didn’t get me. “I don’t have friends,” I finally admit with a little bite in my tone. I don’t want friends, and I don’t need friends.

“We’re friends; deal with it. Now, soup?” He skirts around me into my kitchen, leaving me at a loss for words. “Why don’t you lay down on the couch and find something for us to watch? I’ll bring you some food, and we’ll get a dose of the painkillers the ER prescribed into you, and you can sleep through the worst of the pain.”

I almost ask again why he’s doing this, but decide that whatever his motivation, it feels nice to be taken care of for a change. I settle onto the couch and put on the second season of Stranger Things.

It’s not long before Rebel brings me a bowl of soup, a second dose of the painkillers, and a glass of water.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Rebel waves me off and then sits down beside me on the couch. “Cool, I haven’t watched the second season yet.”

“I might fall asleep after I eat,” I warn.

“That’s fine, I can let myself out or crash on your couch. Don’t worry about me.”

We fall into comfortable silence as I finish the soup Rebel made me. And before long, my eyelids grow heavy. I feel a blanket being laid over me and then a quick kiss brushed against my forehead before I’m pulled under by sleep.