3

by Jacob Z. Flores

  Everywhere Dutch looked, memories of happier times haunted him. They shimmered in and out of existence like echoes of the past. To reside here together, with those memories around them, was going to be difficult.

  Justin realized it as well.

  He was ominously silent, the gravity of this move weighing heavily upon him. As Justin carried his belongings through the house, his gaze darted around the rooms; he was apparently haunted by the same memories. But more than the memories of his time with Dutch probably preoccupied Justin.

  Dutch knew Justin was worried that moving in with him signaled the final nail in the coffin of his relationship with Spencer. He wanted to tell Spencer in person that he was moving in with Dutch, and he wanted to explain why. Justin feared Spencer would infer that he was choosing Dutch.

  Justin wasn’t choosing him. Even he knew that.

  Making amends was Justin’s only motivation. He was doing what he could to help him literally get back on his feet. Justin couldn’t tell Spencer that if he couldn’t contact him, and Spencer refused to take his calls or see him in person. He didn’t want to leave a voice mail or a message with anyone else. Spencer deserved to hear the news in person, not secondhand.

  For the past few days, Dutch had witnessed all of Justin’s frantic attempts to find Spencer. He was manic and obsessed. But Justin never thought to ask the one person who knew where Spencer was.

  Justin never asked him.

  Justin had been fretting over whether Spencer would understand his decision to help him through his rehabilitation. He had no clue that the only reason Dutch suggested it was because it was Spencer’s idea. While it was information Dutch wanted to share, remaining quiet was part of Spencer’s grand plan.

  “I’m sure you’ll find him soon enough,” he told Justin while he carted the last suitcase and hanging clothes bag through the front door.

  “Thanks,” Justin said, but his tone and his slumped posture revealed his misery. He placed the suitcase on the living room floor and draped the garment bag over the couch. “I’m starting to think I won’t. Spencer obviously wants nothing more to do with me.”

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked. It was a question he already knew the answer to. He wheeled his chair closer to Justin, close enough for his gesture to offer comfort without crossing an intimacy line neither of them was willing to cross.

  Justin replied quickly. “I am.”

  Dutch didn’t believe him. Justin’s answer was spoken too hastily, which wasn’t like him. Justin thought carefully about serious subjects. He wasn’t the kind of man to make rash decisions. With the exception of their affair, Justin proceeded through life very methodically, with his heart and his intellect as his compass.

  “Spencer’s done with me.” Defeated, he sat on the couch, where they used to cuddle in front of the television. It was obvious that memory wasn’t playing for Justin; instead, he lamented the loss of Spencer.

  Dutch had thought Spencer was crazy for insisting on this living arrangement when he visited him in the hospital. Spencer claimed if their lives were ever going to be set right again, they needed closure. Whether Dutch liked it or not, the three of them were in an unhealthy, dysfunctional relationship.

  He couldn’t argue with the logic.

  They both loved Justin, despite everything.

  But even more problematic, Justin still loved both of them. He just didn’t see it. He believed he loved only Spencer, that Spencer was his only motivation. Justin was lying to himself. Dutch knew it, and Spencer knew it.

  Justin could have refused his request. He could have left Dutch alone and gone straight for Spencer. He didn’t.

  He’d agreed to move in while still searching for Spencer, meaning his heart remained at odds.

  CHAPTER 34

  2009

  BEING ignored made Spencer angry, especially considering he had previously been at odds with himself on whether or not to come up to Dutch’s office. According to the secretary, Dutch was in his office, but he refused to answer the door, no matter how many times he knocked. He even announced it was him, expecting Dutch to immediately open the door. Five minutes later, no response came.

  He didn’t understand why he was being ignored. As far as he was concerned, he had done nothing wrong. Dutch was the one who’d suddenly withdrawn, severing all communication.

  If anyone deserved to be angry, it was him. And if he had done something wrong, he deserved to at least know what that was.

  Once again, he knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again, louder. Nothing. Finally, he pounded on the door continuously, making such a racket that other professors poked their heads out into the hall to see what was going on.

  “Is there a problem, Dr. Harrison?” Dr. Carlos Aguayo inquired. Dr. Aguayo was a professor of speech and one of the biggest assholes in the department.

  “No problem at all,” he responded. “Just trying to get a response.”

  Dr. Aguayo looked around at the other professors standing in the hall. “It looks like you got one,” he said. His eyes narrowed, displaying his distaste for the interruption. “Perhaps you should return when Mr. Keller is actually in his office.”

  “Oh, he’s in,” Spencer told him. “I’m just refusing to be ignored.”

  “If only you could be ignored,” Dr. Aguayo said. “This is a place of work. You may have forgotten that in whatever blind desperation drives you to knock so loudly and rudely upon a colleague’s door.”

  “Dutch is more than a colleague,” he announced. Not once did he stop pounding on the door. “He’s a friend. And a friend that I intend to speak with.”

  “Perhaps Mr. Keller doesn’t want to speak to you. Has that thought ever once crossed your mind?”

  Suddenly the door opened. Spencer stepped back as Dutch entered the hallway. Everyone stared at him with disdain. “I apologize for the ruckus,” he announced. He held up the white earphones that dangled from his neck. “I had my iPod on while I was working and only just realized someone was banging on my door.”

  Dr. Aguayo harrumphed. “Might I advise that you lower the volume? It will save us all a lot of trouble the next time Dr. Harrison comes to visit.”

  Spencer wanted to tell the man off, but Dutch agreed to Dr. Aguayo’s request and pulled Spencer into his office. He immediately closed the door behind them.

  “What the hell?” Dutch asked. He was visibly upset. “Why are you banging on my door like some lunatic?”

  “I don’t appreciate being ignored,” he replied.

  Dutch waved the earphones in front of his face. “I was listening to my iPod, remember?” He crossed his office and walked over to his desk. “Are you trying to get me fired or something?”

  “I think you’re doing a good enough job of that on your own.”

  Dutch sat back in his chair. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve changed lately,” he told Dutch. “A lot.” Even though Dutch didn’t invite him to take a seat, Spencer sat down across from him anyway. “Your professionalism on this campus has turned piss-poor, and it’s been noticed.”

  “My professionalism?” Dutch asked. “I wasn’t the one pounding on someone else’s door and disturbing the entire office complex.”

  “Forget the damn door,” he retorted. “You’ve been absent. A lot. You’ve received numerous student complaints. Almost weekly.” He leaned forward in the chair, hoping his body language would drive his point home. “You’re not the person we hired.”

  For a few moments, Dutch said nothing. He only glared at Spencer. A storm brewed in his eyes. “I didn’t realize you were promoted to department chair,” he said at last. “I must’ve missed that e-mail.”

  “This is exactly the type of attitude I’m talking about,” he said, trying to keep his voice under control. The last thing he needed was to get into a shouting match that would further enflame Dr. Aguayo and prompt him to call their boss, if he hadn’t already done so.

  “My attitude here isn’t the problem,
” Dutch announced. “It’s yours.”

  Spencer was stunned. “My attitude?”

  Dutch nodded. “You come to my office, spouting off about my employment issues. What authority do you have to come here and chastise me?”

  “I’m your friend,” Spencer told him. “I’m here because I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to lose your job.”

  “And who says I’m in danger of losing my job?” Dutch asked. “And before you answer that, consider your reply carefully. If someone, let’s say our esteemed department chair, who everyone knows is your best friend, has been gossiping to you about sensitive personnel information, then admitting such will get her fired. Not me.”

  He said nothing, not just because Dutch was right. Peggy shouldn’t have shared such information with him. It was a perk he enjoyed as her best friend on campus and one of her closest confidants. He always knew private information before anyone else in the School of Arts, Humanities, and Social Sciences. She confided in no one else, primarily because she couldn’t. Her job prohibited voicing such private information, but as a gossip lover, she needed someone to share the inside track with, someone she could trust. That person was Spencer.

  Even so, protecting Peggy wasn’t the only reason Spencer went mute. Dutch’s comment was an overt threat against a woman he cared very deeply for, a fact Dutch was completely aware of.

  The warning proved to him how much Dutch had changed.

  “I don’t need to be told by anyone about your lack of professionalism these days,” he lied. Even though he knew Dutch didn’t buy it, he continued. “I’ve heard the students complain about you in my class before I start. I’ve come by to see you several times in the past couple of weeks, and you haven’t been in.”

  “Nice recovery,” Dutch smirked.

  Spencer ignored the comment. “You’re right, though, I’m not your boss, and my broaching of this subject may have been bungled, but the sentiment is real.” He looked deeply into Dutch’s eyes, trying to tell him with more than his words how worried he was. “I’m your friend. And I’m worried.”

  “Why is that?” Dutch asked.

  He saw a glint in Dutch’s eyes that chased the anger away. For a moment, he wondered if the anger had ever truly been there in the first place.

  “You mean beyond everything I’ve just said?”

  Dutch nodded. “You’re only telling me half-truths,” he said. “There’s more to this than just my continued employment here.”

  “Like what?”

  “You tell me,” Dutch said. He rose from his chair and came around the desk. He sat at the edge, looking down at Spencer.

  Spencer felt like he was on the witness stand, staring into the eyes of a prosecuting attorney who was hell-bent on getting him to confess to some fictional crime. He had nothing else to offer. Dutch was his friend, and Spencer was concerned about how his attitude change on campus was affecting his employment.

  “Other than the neglecting of your duties, there’s nothing else.”

  “Nothing else I’ve been neglecting?” Dutch asked.

  “I think that would be quite enough,” he said. “Not being available to students. Being rude to them. Being unclear in assignments. Not answering their calls or e-mails. Not even answering my calls or e-mails.”

  “And there it is,” Dutch said. A huge smile stretched across his lips.

  “There what is?” he asked, completely confused.

  In response, Dutch reached down and took Spencer by his wrists, jerking Spencer upward and into his arms. He smelled like salt and sex, a mixture Spencer found almost too tantalizing. But since he had been pulled into an embrace he hadn’t asked for, he pushed back against Dutch’s chest, trying to extract himself from the huge arms that encircled his body and rested comfortably against his hips.

  “This is what you want,” Dutch whispered into his ear. Dutch’s hot breath against his skin made him tremble. His heart raced in his chest. The air in his lungs burned, filling with the salty goodness that permeated every pore of Dutch’s body. “You’re here because I’ve been neglecting you.”

  Suddenly, Dutch nibbled on his right ear and licked a trail from the ear lobe to Spencer’s neck. Spencer clawed at the shirt covering Dutch’s massive back, but he couldn’t tell if he was trying to get away or pry the fabric from his body. That was how crazy Dutch was making him. Finally, he admitted that, more than anything else, he wanted to rip the shirt off Dutch and feel his hairy flesh scrape against his own.

  Dutch’s tongue traveled from Spencer’s neck to his throat, which Dutch proceeded to passionately kiss. The stubble from the unshaven face scratched against Spencer’s delicate flesh, scraping angry red marks upon his pale skin. The rugged, forced contact caused his hips to instinctively thrust forward. When he did, he rubbed against Dutch’s enormous erection, which added more fuel to his fire.

  Spencer surfed his hands down Dutch’s back until they found his ass. He squeezed the muscled globes, pressing Dutch farther into him, while Dutch continued to lick and kiss his neck. Dutch moved his hands from Spencer’s waist to his chest, where he began fumbling open the buttons of his shirt.

  With the task accomplished, he parted the fabric with his big hands. One hand tweaked Spencer’s right nipple while Dutch moved his mouth downward to the left nipple, where he proceeded to feast. Dutch bit so hard, Spencer expected to see blood trailing down his flesh.

  Spencer moaned from the sensation of Dutch’s hot mouth causing him such delicious pain. He encircled Dutch’s neck, using his hands to force his face harder against his chest. Dutch growled in response and lifted Spencer off his feet, forcing him to wrap his legs around Dutch’s waist.

  From this position, Spencer could feel Dutch’s hardness rubbing against his still clothed ass. He wished Dutch’s cock was freed from its trousers and was working its way inside him, parting his hole until the entire length rested snugly within him.

  He feverishly ground his pelvis into Dutch’s erection while Dutch moved to rest Spencer upon the surface of the desk. Once he’d been placed on the smooth desktop, Dutch pulled Spencer’s shirt from his body and began undoing his belt. Spencer followed his lead. He went to work immediately on Dutch’s shirt, opening it to reveal the dark chest hair that covered Dutch’s pecs and abdomen.

  He buried his face in the abundant chest hair, licking it and the rugged flesh it covered. While he got drunk on the salty taste of Dutch’s skin and the musky smell emanating from armpits not coated in deodorant, he quickly undid Dutch’s belt and unzipped the trousers, which Dutch helped push to the floor, along with his blue Andrew Christian briefs.

  Dutch stood before him; his hardness looked to be at least eight impressive inches, and the thick, veiny shaft, which pulsed as if it were alive, jutted from a thick brush of dark pubic hair.

  They were moments away from turning their friendship into something more. The only barrier that remained to their new relationship was the pair of boxer briefs that still covered Spencer. His black trousers already rested in a heap, along with the shirt Dutch had cast aside and the dress shoes he’d kicked off just moments before.

  Once again, Dutch pulled him into an embrace. His hard cock pressed against Spencer’s erection, still confined behind fabric but desperately wanting to be freed. Dutch surfed his fingertips along his back, riding the curve of his body to the waistband of his underwear. There, he paused and rested.

  Spencer looked into his eyes, and he saw an intense passion aflame within. Dutch wanted this as much as he did, but there was something else. Beyond the desire, he saw conflict, as if Dutch was trying to convince himself to go the last bit of distance that remained—removing his underwear and penetrating his flesh.

  Then, for the briefest of seconds, Spencer saw Justin, not Dutch. He saw the man who crossed the Bonham and cut through the crowd with only one objective in mind—him. He saw the dark-brown eyes set inside their almond-shaped frame.

  In that moment, the years of their relationship
rippled through him like a raindrop falling onto a calm pond. Each memory triggered a surge of emotions that rushed toward the shore, where he and Dutch stood. The love tugged on his heart like a riptide, pulling him back to Justin and away from the hot, massive beast who wanted to carry him out of the water of his previous relationship and onto a shore he didn’t recognize.

  Dutch crossed what little distance remained between them, his lips headed straight for Spencer’s. As he closed the gap, Dutch slowly pushed down the waistband of his briefs.

  Since that night, almost a decade ago, he had never kissed another man without Justin being present in the room. All that was about to end. Once he kissed Dutch, once he crossed that boundary and left the warm waters of his relationship, there would be no returning to the gentle, rolling ocean of their life.

  He refused to allow that to happen. He wouldn’t betray Justin the way Mike Lane had betrayed him. He had no intention of sinking to those depths, now or in this lifetime.

  “Stop,” Spencer ordered, turning to the left, which caused Dutch to brush his cheek instead of his lips. He pushed Dutch backward, away from him.

  He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t cheat on Justin, no matter how badly he wanted to. It would be a betrayal of the magic that had brought them together. The magic might have waned. It might not be as strong as it once was, but Spencer had faith it was still there.

  “What’s wrong?” Dutch asked, trying to pull Spencer into another embrace.

  “I said stop,” Spencer repeated with more force this time. He bent down to retrieve his clothes and began to put them back on. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do this.”