by B. G. Thomas
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Unusual Attention
By B.G. Thomas
Until recently, Adam Brookhart has led what he considers a relatively uneventful life. His biggest problem is that he can’t let his guard down and allow himself to get close to anyone, emotionally or physically—until he meets Shane Farmer.
Shane lives in a small town many miles from Adam and is his complete opposite. In fact, he’s just about the last person Adam can imagine himself in a relationship with. But Adam is drawn to the man, and neither distance nor their differences can keep him away.
Late one night, while driving home from Shane’s house, something very strange happens. Adam loses two hours of time and has no idea how or why. But as he digs for clues, the answers he finds are totally crazy… and the man he is falling in love with might be crazy as well.
Originally published in Contact (Gothika #5) in October 2016.
1
ADAM BROOKHART was driving home from the little town of Buckman when it happened….
2
HE’D BEEN visiting his new… well, he wasn’t sure what Shane was at this point. Boyfriend? Could he really be a boyfriend?
Adam mentally rolled his eyes as he drove through the dark.
Nah. Me? With a boyfriend? It was to laugh.
So what was Shane, then?
Adam had to be honest with himself. It was looking like Shane was more than a roll in the hay. Because Buckman was just over a three-hour drive from Kansas City, and he didn’t even like to drive the fifteen minutes to and from work. That he’d drive three hours to see Shane was saying something.
And a half.
Was it the sex? Surely not. Yes, things had been dry for a while there, and his right hand (and even his left) had been getting pretty boring. So another human being was (hopefully) better than self-gratification. But if it was only sex, he could find a guy on E-MaleConnect or Grindr in far less time than it took to drive to hicksville Buckman, Missouri.
Of course there was no telling if a hookup from any of those services would be worth it—would be good sex—or if the guy who showed up would look (anything) like his picture.
So with Shane he knew he had a good-looking man—very good-looking, in fact. (Sometimes just a glance at the man would start the butterflies in Adam’s belly to whirling. How about that?)—and pretty damned good sex too.
But not the best he’d ever had.
Shane was pretty vanilla, and Adam had had just about every flavor Baskin-Robbins—Ben & Jerry’s too—had to offer and he liked variety. A lot. Yet while Shane wasn’t Raspberry Sinceri-Tea or Bourbon Brown Butter or even Cherry Garcia, Adam had to admit he was very good vanilla. Not the Best Choice or Always Save brands either. Not even Blue Bunny. No. Shane was the very best, Edy’s or Häagen-Dazs or the seven or eight dollars a pint variety—like you got from Glacé Artisan Ice Cream on Main Street—with the little flecks of real vanilla beans.Shane wasn’t very experienced. But what he lacked in know-how, he more than made up with a willingness—hell, an eagerness—to please. He was a quick learner, taking everything Adam taught him in bed and returning it with interest.
But it was more than looks or sex. If that’s all he had going with Shane, Adam could still have resisted the guy—especially given how far away he lived.
The thing was, he actually liked Shane. When was the last time he’d liked anyone? Anyone he’d had sex with, that was. He had sex with strangers. Friends, the people he liked, he never had sex with. It messed things up every time. Every time.
“So what am I doing?” he wondered aloud.
Am I dating?
Me?
Examine the evidence, he thought, which was something his sister would tell him to do (of course she would). He wiped at his eyes. There weren’t many cars on this long stretch of middle-of-nowhere road, but the ones that did pass in the opposite direction all seemed to have forgotten they had their high beams on. Not exactly a good thing!
Okay.
First and foremost was that—well, be honest and call it what is was—he was seeing a guy despite a whole passel of reasons why he shouldn’t. Reasons that were always deal breakers.
For instance, Shane smoked.
Adam hated smoking. With a passion. He’d never smoked a single puff off a cigarette in his entire life (although he had hit on something else a few times back in college). His parents both smoked, and he’d spent his entire youth going to school smelling like cigarettes, wearing clothes with burns in them (and oh, the teasing), and listening to his mother and father coughing (and coughing and coughing). Sometimes they’d be watching television, and Drew Carey or Frasier would say something funny, and they’d laugh and then they’d get to coughing and wouldn’t (couldn’t) stop. You could forget about hearing at least five minutes of the show. That wasn’t even counting the mornings he’d wake up because his dad was puking in the bathroom from his morning cough.
Adam hadn’t been the slightest bit tempted to try even one cigarette when the boys in fourth grade tried to get him to join them behind the school.
No way.
Adam had made up his mind by then that not only would he never smoke, but he would never grow up and marry a smoker.
No way.
He’d worried his whole growing-up life that he’d get cancer from his parents’ secondhand smoke. Why would he subject himself to more worry and fear once he’d gotten away on his own? Adam avoided one-night stands with smokers—they had to be really hot to get him in the sack—let alone anything more serious than that. Kissing a man who smoked was like licking an ashtray. Horrible. He’d told one-night stands they had to brush their teeth if they wanted to get it on. He kept extra toothbrushes in his medicine cabinet for just such happenstances.
And yet Shane smoked. But then again, he was a very considerate smoker. He always smoked outside, even when they were at Shane’s house. Never in the car, either Adam’s Subaru or Shane’s own pickup. Of course Shane’s clothes still smelled like cigarette smoke, which brought back some pretty bad memories. But—and Adam found this adorable and endearing—Shane kept a little bottle of spritz breath freshener on him at all times and used it regularly, even devotedly. And brushed his teeth if they were at home. You had to give him credit for that.
“Because I hear that kissing someone who smokes is like licking an ashtray,” Shane had said early on. Then looking at Adam, green eyes sparkling, that little smile of his tugging just the left side of his mouth, he added, “And that’s not what I want you thinking about when we kiss.”
Adam had immediately laid the man.
Oh, and then, good God, Shane liked baseball! Something else Adam had put on his list for immediate elimination in allowing a man to go from a fuck to anything more serious, even a fuck buddy. Adam hated sports. Another chokehold from his childhood. His father loved sports. All sports. Baseball. Football. Basketball. Hockey. Christ, he even loved bowling and golf. And as Mark Twain once said, “Golf is a good walk spoiled.”
Adam’s mother had been a sports widow. He and his mom had spent endless hours either in the kitchen baking something or in the garden or listening to books on tape while she sewed and while his father and his sister sat on the couch watching one type of game after another. Sometimes as many as two or three games in one day!
Adam had sworn he and his kids would never be relegated to other rooms, widowed and ignored by his wife, while endless hours of sports played on the TV.
But then somewhere along the line, the ide
a of getting married and starting his own family changed as he realized he was gay. Along with the idea of settling down with anyone. The thought of opening himself up to someone’s whims became ugly and suffocating.
So what did he do?
Why, he’d spent the last six weekends with a man who loved baseball. Baseball, of all sports. At least with football it was only around a dozen games in the fall and winter (he wasn’t sure and didn’t care). Baseball had over a hundred and fifty games in a season!
Yet he’d even gone to a baseball game with Shane—the Kansas City Royals versus… well, he wasn’t sure—and what was wild was that he’d had a pretty good time. Of course he figured that was mostly because he liked Shane’s company, the beers, and the excitement of the crowd more than watching men hit balls with sticks and then run around in circles. At least it was only baseball. Not basketball, and certainly not the ruination of a good walk.
Speaking of Mark Twain, Shane wasn’t a big reader. He’d read Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code, and Adam had seen the Max Brand and Louis L’Amour novels next to his bed (and the toilet of course—he was a man). Oh, and some Destroyer novels. Not exactly what Adam thought of as the best reading material.
But thinking about that, at least Shane did read. Adam had to be fair.
And he wasn’t one of those goons who wondered why Adam loved to read. He even picked up some books for Adam at garage sales, good ones too, like the newest by Daniel Woodrell and Frederic Tuten, which Adam had been waiting for his bonus check to buy.
So the bottom line was, Adam couldn’t figure out why he was breaking all his rules when it came to Shane, why he was keeping this up, seeing him weekend after weekend. Examining the evidence wasn’t helping.
Vanilla sex (even good vanilla sex), cigarettes, sports, and a lack of good reading, were all enough, separately, to make him push Shane Farmer away. Like the magnets he used to play with when he was a kid. Slide one toward the other one way, and some kind of invisible force would push the second one away.
But flip the magnet over so the poles were reversed, and the other would zip over and—click!—they would stick together.
It was just like that. Something had “flipped” him over, and instead of pushing Shane away, he kept zinging toward him. And click! They were together once again.
He still felt it.
Adam shook his head and marveled at the thought.
He’d felt it Friday night when he’d gotten to Shane’s house. Shane had opened his door, and it was like Adam’s chest was yanked toward Shane’s.
He’d kissed Shane right there on the back stoop, and Shane had responded—for just one moment—and then gasped, pulled away, grabbed him by the lapels with both hands, and yanked him inside.
They’d had sex on the kitchen floor. And over the counter.
Oh, and that tug at Adam’s heart.
Adam sat up straight in his car seat. Almost wove into the other lane.
Goddamn.
His sister would fall out of her black, but sensible, shoes.
Am I…?
3
THAT WAS when it happened.
4
UGH….
The car swerved.
Adam sat bolt upright.
Something wasn’t….
What…. What…?
He’d been thinking about something. Wondering about something.
And now?
Now he couldn’t remember what it was.
It was as if a shadow had passed in front of Adam’s eyes. No…. Not a shadow. More like a nodding off and…. Well, no, it wasn’t like that either.
Adam, like most of the other seven billion people on Earth, had dozed off behind that wheel at some time or other, and this wasn’t like that either. Hell, he’d actually fallen asleep driving once. He’d been coming home from college after taking the last of his finals. He had been by himself. His friends had all finished a few days before, but he’d had his last one on Friday when they’d been done by Wednesday. He’d spent a number of late- or all-nighters studying. His grades had slipped a little, and he’d wanted to do far more than pass his tests: he’d wanted to ace them.
One minute he’d been driving, and then there was a big bump and his eyes had flown open and sunflowers were flying over the hood and windshield while a sea of bright yellow flowed by him on the left and right! He had fallen asleep and driven off the road and right through a field of big, insanely tall sunflowers.
Thank God it hadn’t rained in days. The ground was dry, and when he slammed on his brakes, he didn’t harm the car or get stuck. It was only when he backed up that he saw how lucky he had been. He had missed plowing into the guardrail edge on by a mere couple of feet, and since he hadn’t been wearing his seat belt, he’d missed dying by the same distance. He’d worn it religiously ever since then. He also made sure never to drive when he was sleepy again. Better to stop at a rest area and nap for an hour or three.
No. He hadn’t fallen asleep. It wasn’t like that. Didn’t feel like that.
So this “happening” wasn’t a shadow (how could it be; it was night after all?) and it wasn’t nodding off, and it as sure as hell wasn’t falling asleep.
What, then?
He shook his head.
Adam passed a sign that reported Kansas City was only seventy-six miles away, and his mouth fell open. Good God. Seventy-six miles? What the hell?
Had he gone into some kind of trance?
Only explanation.
The oncoming headlights—with their officious high beams—had hypnotized him. He’d zoned out. Lost time. Christ.
He must have lost a good hour. He couldn’t remember ever having done something like that before.
Or could he? Was there some niggling little thought…?
No.
He shook his head. Banished it.
He glanced at his fuel gauge and judged he should be okay. He could always stop in Terra’s Gate, which should be coming up soon.
Wow. Wow, had he lost time. He couldn’t even remember what he’d been thinking about.
Weird.
5
HE CALLED Shane as soon as he walked in the door. It was their deal when one of them left for home as late as they usually did. Just an assurance that they’d made it home safe. Shane was the one who had really insisted on the practice.
How sweet was that?
Adam did not get the response he was expecting.
“Dammit, Adam! What took you so long to call? I was worried sick.”
Adam blinked in surprise. Shane yelling? He hadn’t heard him raise his voice yet. When he wasn’t having an orgasm, that is. What was he yelling about?
“Shane… I just got home. Called you first thing.” What was Shane talking about?
“Adam! It’s two in the morning!”
Adam froze.
What?
Bullshit.
He swiveled around to face the VCR in his entertainment center. And there it was.
2:06 a.m.
His eyes went wide, his jaw clenched, he couldn’t speak. A feeling of dread fell over him, and he had no idea why.
“Adam? Are you there?”
He took a deep breath.
“Yeah, Shane. I’m here. I….” I what? He’d left Shane’s at just after nine. They’d just not been able to get out of bed. That meant he should have been home around midnight.
It was two in the morning. Six minutes after, that was.
“Hon? Did you stop somewhere?”
“No,” he said. But he must have. Had he pulled off the road and fallen asleep, hypnotized by the oncoming headlights? Then he admitted it. “I don’t know, Shane.” Maybe.
Silence.
It was Adam’s turn to ask. “Shane?”
“Yeah,” came the answer. “I’m with you.”
Adam gave a laugh. Okay. Time to let reason assert itself. “I’m sorry to call you so late, babe,” he said, and then he froze again. Had he just called Shane “babe”?
/> He sat down on the arm of his couch. Took a deep breath.
“Shane, I don’t know what happened. I think maybe I fell into a trance or something.” Then reason really did assert itself. “I’m sure that’s what happened. I bet I was sort of out of it—it’s not like we got much sleep this weekend.” He laughed again and to his surprise felt his cheeks heat up. “I went into la-la land and started driving really slow, maybe. I should count myself lucky I didn’t get pulled over.”
Silence again.
“Shane?”
“Sorry I yelled,” Shane said. “I was just worried is all.”
Worried.
Somebody worried about him.
Somebody besides his sister, that was.
It was nice.
A sudden memory hit him all at once. Sitting up straight in his car, hands clenched on the wheel, and wondering if… if I’m falling for Shane.
When had that happened?
For some reason the thought sent a shiver through him.
He took a deep breath. “You need to go to bed, Shane.”
“You’re the one that needs to get to bed, hon,” Shane replied. “You have to get up in like three hours.”
Except Adam knew right then that wasn’t going to happen. He’d call in. He needed the sleep. He was tired. Very tired. Exhausted even. And it wasn’t like he and Shane had had that much sex. They’d watched TV in bed. They’d slept in. Gone to a little breakfast place run by a sweet old couple that served good home-cooked meals like he remembered his grandmother used to make. They’d hung out in Buckman’s little park, and Saturday, they’d spent an evening at a carnival. Even ridden the Ferris wheel together. Adam had grabbed Shane’s hand at the top. He wasn’t too crazy about heights.
Why should he be so tired?
“Adam? Go to bed. I’ll see you this weekend.”
Adam grunted.
“Right?” came the question.
Adam nodded. “Sure. Of course.” Why not? Then: “Think I’ll stay up just a bit more. Think I’ll have a cocktail first. My mind is whirling.”
