by Zoe Lee
All of our conversation and debates were serious and deep, as if Gavin was insatiable here too, desperate to know everything that was left about me, the whens and whys. There was humor too, amazing jokes and euphoric moments like when we walked through a park and climbed to the top of a jungle gym. We perched on metal bars, our feet dangling and kicking while our hands gripped bars behind us, and looked up the sky as we laughed.
It was everything I’d always wanted, buried way down deep beneath my scar tissue from old heartbreak and the string of smaller disappointments I’d had since then. There was something almost naive and precious about it, and I wanted to protect it, because I wondered if maybe, possibly, this was him realizing he loved me too and was processing it.
Because of that, I didn’t tempt fate and press him to talk to me about it, in case it was something terrible like he was about to break up with me and wanted one last everything.
Until this morning, when I said it was time to get ready to go to a party at Camdon’s and he suggested with a secret, sly smile, rubbing my chest, “Stay here with me.”
“They’re expecting us,” I reminded him.
He demanded as if he were entitled, “Skip it.”
“We can’t skip it,” I told him softly, hoping to diffuse whatever was gripping him so tight. “It’s been scheduled for weeks, it’s our only shared time off in months where no one has any family obligations. The other guys want to actually hang out with you, too.”
“I don’t want to share you with them,” he snapped.
My eyelids flickered. “You do share me with them,” I told him as I sat up and cupped my knees with my hands to steady myself for the storm brewing in his eyes. “Just like you share me with sleep, my job, and my mom and my sisters and their kids.”
“But—”
“Gavin,” I said in a stern tone, “why are you insecure about this?” He scoffed, a light flush rising up on his cheeks despite the derisive noise, and I held myself perfectly still as I went on, “Or why are you trying to cause a fight with me right now? What’s going on?”
He shifted restlessly, throwing his hands up as if I were being irrational, and I held onto my temper because I knew he was goading me, trying to avoid explaining himself. But I kept looking at him, waiting him out, patient because I could tell he was uncomfortable.
“I’m not trying to start a fight,” he expelled in a loud burst.
“Okay,” I said.
His face twisted, a mess of excitement and trepidation and then words spilled past his lips. “It’s—Barnyard is starting a worldwide tour in about a week,” he began, his eyes burning bright like amethysts glinting in candlelight, breaths labored. “You know I’m not going. While he’s gone, Barley wants me to start to learn more about the whole business, so I could maybe transition from being his personal assistant to something more. I don’t know how, he and the others want to throw a bunch of things at me and see where my skills lie.”
Digesting this, my body relaxed out of fight or flight mode. “That’s amazing!”
“But I’m starting tomorrow and I just kind of… want to hole up here with you for the day,” he muttered, fiddling with the ends of his hair, eyes cast down. “Because I’m kind of a tiny bit nervous about it. And you make me feel calm and confident and shit.”
I leaned back on my hands and nodded, trying to look chill because I knew that he’d just dismiss pampering or being showered in compliments. “Maybe we should stay here,” I said really thoughtfully. “You’ve never taken a bite off something you couldn’t chew before, so the likelihood that you’ll completely gag and throw up and wind up fired is really high.”
His eyes snapped up to me and he scowled fiercely, firing back, “I won’t fuck it up!”
“Great.”
“Just because I’m not ambitious—I just want a job that pays bills and lets me skydive and all of that when it suits me—doesn’t mean I’m not good at shit,” he went on, getting more fired up. “Honestly it’s about damn time Barley admitted I can do better than him.”
“Now that that’s settled, you get in the shower and I’ll make coffee,” I said.
His eyes narrowed to glinting slits and he hissed, “You son of a bitch.”
My mouth curled up slyly. “Would you rather I get all poetic about how clever you are? How quickly you learn new things? How great you are with people and making everyone feel comfortable no matter what? How you don’t shy away from standing up for yourself?”
He practically went pale as he shook his head frantically, scrambling off the bed.
“That’s what I thought,” I taunted him.
When he stripped, then twisted, showing off both his ass and his two middle fingers, I cocked an eyebrow and threatened him in my smuggest, most aloof tone, “Behave or I’ll never spank you.”
His cock began to rise, but he lowered his middle fingers and hustled into the shower.
I fell back onto the bed and dozed until he was done, then took mine while he brushed out his long hair and blow dried it on the other side of the shower curtain.
“So everyone will be at this party?” Gavin had to practically shout over the noise of the water and the blow dryer. “Will I get to meet this illusive boyfriend of Camdon’s?”
“Probably not,” I shouted back as I dropped my head back and scrubbed through my hair to get the slippery conditioner to rinse out. “I think he doesn’t like us, but Camdon’s tight-lipped about James, so there’s probably more to the story than that.”
“Sounds like they should break up,” he commented after stopping the blow dryer.
Turning the shower off, I got my towel. “Camdon’s hyper-focused on his job because it’s very important to him, so he doesn’t seem to have space to pay attention to much else.”
“That’ll be a bad comedown,” he observed, but still with sympathy.
I dried off, but when his fingers nimbly began to create a braided bun, my obsession with his hair had my hand rubbing my half-hard cock with the dampening towel.
He clicked his tongue. “We’re going to be late if you want to lazily rub one out, Eliott.”
“I’m not—” I didn’t bother finishing my protest, just got back to getting ready to go.
Thirty minutes later, we were on the road in my car for Camdon’s place in the suburbs.
Gavin immediately changed the radio station, pushing my presets and groaning at which stations they were, before flipping to the station he wanted. “You should like this,” he teased me, “this is classic rock and you love classical music. How can you resist it?”
His knee bounced in rhythm while he tossed his head to the beat.
I cracked a smile at his antics and let him have his way, glad to see his mood improved.
When we got to Camdon’s house, the street was packed with cars and Gavin looked around at the million-dollar houses. “This… is not where I expected Camdon to live.”
“It’s not as luxurious as Barley’s, but his grandparents had it built in the ‘50s.”
Taking my hand casually, he replied with a good-natured laugh, “My grandparents were working at the steel works in the ‘50s, trying not to starve or freeze to death.”
We went in through the unlocked front door, and I waved at Camdon’s older sister and her boyfriend, but kept us moving towards the big kitchen, my favorite feature of the house.
“—I’m just saying, it’s embarrassing you haven’t asked Lucas to move in yet!”
Grinning, I slipped around a knot of people our age crunching on some crackers and Brie and into the formal dining room, following the gently outraged voice of Beth Bernthal.
“Eliott!” she exclaimed when she saw me, pushing off the enormous, heavy table she’d been perched on to hug me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You’re looking very well.” Her eyes flickered over to Gavin, sweeping the front swing of her bob back as she took him in. “I can see why. And who are you, young man? Look at you, with Liz Taylor purple eyes.”
&
nbsp; “Beth, this is my boyfriend, Gavin Sycamore. Gavin, this is Asher’s mom, Beth.”
He smiled dazzlingly back at her and leaned in to confide with a smile, “I’ve been trying to charm my way into your group chat for months, Beth Bernthal.”
Asher, still sitting on the dining room table with his hands braced behind him, groaned. “That’s not a group chat with my mom. It’s a group chat named after her.”
“Oh?” Beth looked from one of us to the other, trying to hide a pleased smile.
“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” Asher muttered. “You know the guys love you.”
In loving retaliation, she messed up his hair, making him squawk. “Eliott, convince him that it’s long past time he asks Lucas to move in, please. They’re getting married, why wait?”
Seeing Asher’s expression, I stepped in smoothly. “Trust me, Beth, he is on it.”
“If you say so, then of course.” She cupped each of our cheeks affectionately. “I’ll let you kids gossip without me. Gavin, I’m so pleased you’re here. You seem like the kind of fun our Eliott deserves, and I bet you’re a firecracker in—”
“Mom!” I felt my cheeks flush while Asher cut her off. “Boundaries!”
But Gavin only burst into joyful laughter and didn’t even try to lower his voice to a private tone when he said proudly, “I’m totally a firecracker in bed. But I bet you have some stories too. Did Asher’s dad rock this short beard and gym rat body back in the day?”
“Fuck no,” Asher swore, “this is too far. I’m taking away your group chat title, Mom.”
“Fine, fine. If you’re leaving, why don’t you go see if Camdon needs any help?”
With a resigned wave, he strode out, then Beth turned and pinned me with a sharp look. “You really do look wonderful, Eliott. Whatever you’re doing, celebrate it; take your man out on the town, bring him to Asher and Lucas’s next show, spin him around.”
Gavin sighed theatrically and stuck out his bottom lip. “Yeah, Eliott, I never get to hear live music and you know how much I love it.” He linked his hands around my neck and swayed into me, the way he sought out my body sweet while his eyes twinkled with mischief. “And you’ve never seen me dance, but I do… spin really well. Like, really well.”
Remembering the times we had danced—and the time he’d danced on me—I smothered a moan in his neck, realizing that Beth had left us alone already. He was torturing me just because it was fun, pushing my boundaries in his playful way I loved.
I wrapped an arm around his waist and started to slow dance with him.
“Don’t think this is getting you out of hanging out with your friends,” he whispered into my ear, the tone husky and romantic, and then sucked the lobe into his mouth.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I grunted out, my breath lost from his touch.
Camdon’s parents and some of their friends were in the living room playing bridge, so we went downstairs to the rec room in the basement where I could hear everyone else.
While there were probably thirty people down here, it wasn’t intimidating the way Barley’s party had been to me. I knew everyone, or knew I had at least seen them before, and Sam, Quincy, and a couple other people were standing near the bar while others played video games, sprawled out on the couches. If it weren’t still blustery outside, I knew most of them would be in the backyard playing football. I shook my head, since I always forgot how sporty Camdon’s family and friends were—except for Sam and me, that was.
“Huh, I never realized at the hospital, since it’s not the best place to get this vibe, but Camdon’s kind of a giant dude-bro,” Gavin commented under his breath, pointing at where Camdon was trash talking while he kicked someone’s ass at a player versus player game.
“I know.” I shook my head as he and Quincy bumped chests and high-fived. “He’s intelligent and focused when it comes to work, but outside that world, he’s like this.”
He scratched his chin with my shoulder and then answered, “Most people I’ve met who are overachievers at work are just overachievers on nights and weekends, like they party hard and drink hard and flirt hard. But Camdon’s like… a closet weekend dude-bro.”
“Not entirely off the mark,” I said, but I felt guilty because it certainly oversimplified him, so I had to add, “but we all have our reasons. I’d rather he has parties his family comes to and plays video games in his basement than spend his free time partying hard.”
“Of course you do, you big softie,” he teased. “Ooh, bratwurst! Feed me, Eliott.”
We got paper plates, then went over to Sam, who served us some bratwurst and then turned over his tongs to Camdon’s older sister so he could join us at some free chairs.
“This is the life,” Sam declared, then made an exaggerated “Ahhh” of satisfaction as his legs sprawled out. “So, Gavin, I know Eliott’s probably cross-examined you… and not in the sexy role-playing euphemistic kind of way. But I have a few very important questions.”
Sam was hard to read sometimes, a top wrapped in twink’s clothing, and I couldn’t help but smirk when Gavin smoothed his hair back, then bragged, “Go for it, I can take it.”
“I know you can, cutie,” Sam laughed.
That actually made Gavin shocked, whipping his head around to gape at me. “You talk about our sex life? Like, cool, okay, but also, I… did not see that one coming.”
“Not in graphic detail. Sam knows I’m vers and I said we’re very compatible in bed, so he’s extrapolating,” I replied evenly. “Sam’s mastered the art of suggestiveness.”
“And what a lover he is.” Sam waved that away and took a swig of his beer. “So, how about you tell me all about that ex who broke your heart, that one who fucked you up.”
Pride and lust swelled up, inextricably, deliciously tangled together like knotwork, when Gavin slung one leg over the other and pursed his lips, then clicked his tongue. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s not my tragic backstory. Just your everyday pretty gay boy who grew up in a blue collar Irish Catholic neighborhood. I have a killer bitch slap though.”
“Are those colored contacts?”
“Nope. Just blessed.”
“What do you drive?”
With a toothy grin, Gavin tossed out the make and model of his motorcycle, but I let the meaning of their words go fuzzy, settling in happily to watch them finally get to bond.
Even without really listening, it was easy to see it happen. Asher, Camdon, Sam, and I hadn’t become best friends simply because we happened to have disliked the same meeting. It was the moment that had put us together, but we’d bonded and sustained that bond because we were all smart, passionate about our own things, and very loyal. So I’d already known Gavin would get along with all of them, loving witty repartée the way he did. Seeing it, though, watching Gavin win Sam over effortlessly, eased some prick of worry I’d had.
Maybe I had worried that Gavin wouldn’t like them, not the other way around. Maybe I had worried that Gavin would be bored at a party that wasn’t at a rock star’s house, where people weren’t exchanging enthusiastic blow jobs in the bathrooms.
Whatever it had been, it was gone—replaced by the fear of how mad they’d be if Gavin decided I was too boring after all, not even my friends’ company enough compensation.
I tuned back into the conversation and my guts lurched unpleasantly. They were swapping outrageous tales: the time Gavin had entered an amateur stripping competition, the time Sam’s then-boyfriend had started tripping during a five-course Valentine’s meal…
Camdon swaggered over, victorious from his video game win, carrying a plate piled high with food. Asher and Lucas joined us too, with more reasonable amounts of food.
They all jumped in, sensing the name of the game—vetting Gavin for me, which was ridiculous considering we’d been together over six months, but also welcoming him. Sam proclaimed he’d given someone a tattoo. Lucas laughed about taking the ACTs while so high he could barely read. Camdon told
a story about one time he and Asher catapulted into a pool off a trampoline when they were kids, sending everyone into hysterics.
Before I knew it, there were shots and a vicious game of Never Have I Ever.
And me? I just sat there, hiding behind my drink, feeling panic start to creep in. I always lost Never Have I Ever, because I didn’t have stories like that—I was the boring one. How could I ever tell a man as amazing and dynamic as Gavin that I was in love with him? He might really like me and enjoy having sex with me, but how would I keep him happy forever? What happened after our bet was done, once I took him on my final Boring Date?
Chapter 35
Gavin
“I am so damn raring and ready to go,” I announced as I jumped into Eliott’s sensible Subaru the second it pulled up out front of my apartment building. I smacked a kiss on Eliott’s cheekbone, made a production of clicking my seatbelt, and carried on, “I was going to take you out to lunch Thursday after the big divorce meeting thing, but poor Carina had that breakdown over the matching yellow umbrellas of all things and I couldn’t stay.”
“Uh huh,” Eliott grunted distractedly as he started heading east.
“It’s a good thing Barnyard is going to do a few shows out west next week. Denver, Vegas, Lake Tahoe, such great venues. They’ll cheer Barley up. I wish you could come.”
“Unfortunately, I have to stay here and keep working on Barley’s divorce.”
The dry words were right, the arch tone was right, but still not quite right. But it was the final Boring Date, so he probably just had his game face on because he wanted to win the bet almost as much as I did.
