by Sarina Bowen
Now we’re in my room, listening to music and theoretically studying for an economics test that bores us both silly. I can’t even blame my father for making me take this class. It’s a Darby requirement.
“What do you think he’ll ask about international trade?” I ask my ex, hoping she has a better handle on this material than I do.
“Keaton, I’m seeing someone,” Annika says suddenly.
It takes me a second to realize that we’ve shifted topics. “I thought you were already dating a lacrosse player?” I ask carefully. Annika and I are still friends, but we don’t talk about our sex lives. Obviously I can’t discuss mine. And I’d assumed she keeps me in the dark about hers out of respect for having dumped me.
“Oh, I wasn’t dating him,” she says. “I just needed a date for a couple of parties. We both know lacrosse is a stupid sport. I could never get past that on a long-term basis.”
I burst out laughing, because Annika always could make me smile.
She pulls out her makeup kit and starts messing around with the various tubes and bottles she keeps in there. It’s a tell that she’s nervous. I still know her so well.
“The thing is,” she says, inspecting an eyeliner pencil. “I’m super-obsessed with this guy I’m seeing. And I know that obsession isn’t often a healthy emotion, but this is so different for me. It’s exciting.”
“And you’re telling me this because…” I really can’t figure that out. “You need me to say it’s okay?”
“I guess so.” She raises her eyes from her compact mirror. “I really don’t know if he’s my forever guy. In fact, he’s probably not. But I feel like this is something I needed to do.”
“You mean he is something you needed to do.” It comes out sounding a little bitchy.
She makes a sympathetic face.
“Look, I’m sure you were right,” I say quietly. “I get it now.” She was obviously right that we weren’t sexually compatible. Hell, I’m still coming to terms with my sexual stuff. “I’m not even angry about it anymore.”
“Really?” She sits up straight and sets her makeup bag aside. “I’m pretty relieved to hear you say that. I never wanted to hurt you. In fact, it would be great if you could get a little dose of what I’m getting.”
I bite my tongue. Because if she’s banging a dude, I am getting that.
Not that I’m allowed to say so.
My glance drifts toward my stereo, which is actually playing a Sam Smith song right now. I wouldn’t listen to this guy at all if it weren’t for a certain obsession of mine. But I can’t explain that, either. And honestly it pisses me off. Lying gets old pretty fast. And I’m not used to bottling up my feelings.
“There is someone,” I admit. “I’m not comfortable discussing it with you. But I want you to know that I understand. We both needed to make some changes and try a few things out.”
Annika gasps like she’s just heard there’s a sale at Bergdorf’s. “Really? Who? And I already regret bringing it up.”
“Wait, why?”
“Well, duh!” She sits up straight in the middle of my bed. “Because now I’m desperately curious and you said you won’t tell me.”
I snort.
“Just share a crumb, Keaton.” She blinks at me with pretty eyes.
“No. And stop asking.” I take a sip of my coffee and hide behind the cup.
“Is she a dominatrix?”
I promptly choke on my coffee.
“Omigod, she is!“ Annika squeals. “I knew it. I called it!”
“You…what?” I sputter.
“I guessed it, Keaton. You’re a submissive. That’s what was missing. Do you prefer being lashed, or being tied up?”
“No! You’re not even…” I swallow my denial. I can’t argue with her because I don’t want her to keep making guesses.
“Where’d you meet her?” Annika demands. “Is there, like, a sex dungeon around here? I read Fifty Shades of Grey.”
Just kill me already.
“I know you think I’m sheltered.” She swallows hard. “But I have intuition. I knew you needed something I couldn’t give you. And I know it’s private but…” She sighs. “I hated feeling like I was always disappointing to you.”
“Annika! Jesus. You were never disappointing to me. It’s just that we got together when we were super young.”
“I get that. And I also know that breaking up with you was a big risk. There are days when I wonder if I’ll look back someday and think—Keaton was the best man ever in my life, and I was too young to realize it.”
“Aw, that won’t happen.” But is she a great girl, or what? I put down my coffee cup and pounce on her, wrapping my arms around her, but then putting one finger under her ribs where I know she’s ticklish.
“Oh my God! Get off of me, you beast.”
But I don’t relent and she howls with laughter.
“Everything okay in here?” Luke’s face appears in the doorway. I’ve grown to look past that scowl he wears, but right now he looks extra grumpy.
“Well, Mr. President,” Annika says, “I would like to lodge a formal complaint about your roommate, here. It’s rude to tickle people that you outweigh.” She takes a better look at Luke’s expression. “Are we being too loud?”
He shrugs. “I’ve got work to do, but maybe I’ll just shut your door.”
“Actually, I’d better go, anyway,” Annika says, untangling herself from me. “We aren’t good study partners for this econ test because we both hate it. Do you have it this term, too?” she asks Luke.
He shakes his head. “Took it freshman year for funzies.”
“Ugh.” She shudders. “What else do you do for fun? Income taxes? Oral surgery?”
“Riiiight,” he says slowly. “Oral surgery. How’d you guess?”
I can’t help it. A smile takes over my face, and I bite the inside of my cheek to avoid laughing. When I glance at Luke, he’s got a tight lid on his own humor, of course. Nobody has a poker face like Luke Bailey. But I know him well enough to see the nanosecond of humor in his eyes.
“You’re a fun guy, Bailey. No matter what they say.” Annika shoves a bunch of cosmetics into her bag and hops off my bed. “You, too. Keaton. Thanks for the eggs Benedict.”
“Anytime!”
She blows me a kiss on her way out the door. The smile I give her is a little bigger than necessary, maybe. But if that’s the most petty thing I do all week, then I guess it isn’t too bad.
“Fun brunch?” Luke asks, still lurking in my doorway.
“Sure. Dad only made two cracks about maybe getting us back together. So there’s that.” I roll my eyes just thinking about it.
“Does she want to?” Luke asks, heaving himself across my bed, face down.
“Nope. She’s seeing someone new, and she’s obsessed with him. Her words.” I sit down on the edge of the bed, one hand on Luke’s back. “Why?”
He shrugs without turning to look at me.
“You’re jealous. Knowing you, it’s only a little. But you still won’t to say so.”
“I don’t have any reason to be jealous,” he says. “We’re not a couple.”
“But we are exclusive,” I point out. That was my one big demand. I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of him sleeping around, especially while I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that we’re sleeping with each other. And since Luke’s a fan of easy, convenient sex, he was fine with it.
“Yeah. We are.”
“So why wouldn’t you call us a couple?” I ask. “Isn’t that the definition?”
He rolls over, breaking contact with my hand. “Because what’s the point? Any second now you’ll get sick of this arrangement. And you’ll go back to dating people you can bring home to Daddy.”
“Because my father’s opinion is so fucking important to me,” I scoff.
“Oh, please.” He sits up. “It obviously is, or you would’ve already told him that you don’t plan to ever work for his company.�
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“That’s just avoidance of the inevitable. Which is exactly what you’re doing. I think you’re really happy dating me, as long as you don’t have to call it what it is.”
“But why does it matter?” he asks me. He shifts his weight and frowns at something he finds in the pillows—it’s Annika’s eyeliner and mirror. He opens the mirror and inspects it. “What would change if we called it dating? It’s not like you really feel like letting anyone in on the secret.”
I bite down hard on my lip. Because he’s mostly right. Mostly. I don’t look forward to awkward conversations with my friends and teammates. And the idea of people making fun of me behind my back gives me the cold sweats.
On the other hand, acknowledging my sexuality is starting to feel inevitable. My attraction to Luke isn’t just a one-off thing. My attraction to men is here to stay and keeping that bottled up feels wrong now. It makes the secret feel enormous.
“Look,” I challenge. “You say you don’t lie about your sexuality. Why should I, then? Right now I lie all the time, and it’s a drag.” It makes the secret feel dark, when I need to feel okay about it, instead.
He just stares at me for a minute. “I can’t be president of this fraternity and also bang one of the brothers. Can you even imagine what people would say?”
“We have a gay brother already,” I point out. “And since when do you care about what people think of you?” He’s just dodging me because he thinks I’m needy.
“I don’t, but…” Luke scrubs his chin with his hand. “I’m not you. I’m not well-liked. The guys downstairs would say some seriously ugly shit if you stood up at a chapter meeting some night and said, ‘Oh, by the way, if you hear moaning on the third floor it’s because I’ve discovered I’m bisexual and now I’m Bailey’s new boy toy.’ Your buddy Judd would flip his shit.”
He would. It’s the truth. “Not everybody is Judd.”
“Good thing.” Luke snorts.
We lapse into silence, just eyeing each other warily. My fingers itch to touch him. I want to use my thumb to smooth out the furrow between his eyebrows. I like Luke Bailey. A lot. That’s my other secret. And forget about my frat brothers—it’s Luke who can’t handle that one.
“You know what I think?” he says suddenly. “I think you need to justify us. Like you’re not a hundred percent okay with getting it on with a guy. And if I tell you we’re more than sex, you’ll feel better.”
“That’s not true,” I protest. And get out of my brain.
“I’m sort of scary to you, and you need to shape it into something that’s more familiar. But it won’t ever work.”
“And why’s that?”
He flops down on my bed with a sigh. “I’m going to put this into terms that you can understand.”
“This better be good.”
“You’re a yellow lab.”
“I’m…what?”
“A dog. A big, happy dog chasing Frisbees on the beach with his pals. You’re a pack animal.”
I snort. “And you’re…a pit bull?”
“Not even. I’m a tomcat in the alley,” he says. “Just passing through. No collar. Not very friendly. No good at catching Frisbees…”
“I get it. Jesus.” It’s not the worst analogy. Although I think Luke secretly wants to be a dog and join the pack. He won’t admit it. But the guy rushed a fraternity, for fuck’s sake. He claims it was the cheapest way to find a place to live. But I call bullshit. Luke won’t admit all the things that he wants.
Who am I to criticize, though? A guy who willfully ignored his attraction to men for many years can’t go around pointing out other people’s ignorance.
Instead, I lay down on the bed beside him and run a thumb across his forehead, smoothing out his brow. He closes his eyes.
Tomcat my ass.
I wrap an arm around him, and he allows this, too. But even as he begins to weave his fingers through my hair, he says, “You need to think of us like a vacation, Hayworth. Vacations feel real enough. But they always end. Like everything good.”
“Okay, that’s exceptionally cynical. Even for you. What is up with you today?” I reach over and tickle his ribs, too. “So surly.”
He swats my hand away like a fly. “Work problems. Last night there was a funky smell in the bathrooms. We all noticed it. Well, Heather emailed me just now to say that it’s a major problem with the plumbing. And so the club will be closed next weekend. And maybe even the weekend after that.”
“Oh, shit.” I put a palm on his arm and give it a squeeze. I can’t stop touching him. I’d do it all the time if he’d let me. “I’m really sorry. Can you bartend next door instead?”
“Probably not, since there will be so many volunteers. And the bartenders don’t ask for coverage on the weekend very often.”
“That sucks,” I say.
What I don’t say is that I can lend him money. Or give him money. Both of these things are true, but he doesn’t want me to offer.
“Anything I can do?” I ask instead.
He rolls over. “Maybe that thing you do to my shoulders? Please? I think I strained something last night.”
I get up off the bed, closing and locking the door. Then I get back onto the bed, straddling Luke’s waist, placing my hands on his shoulders. I grip them hard, digging in with my thumbs, massaging the tight muscles I find under my hands.
He groans happily. “You are my favorite person in the whole fucking world.”
It might even be true. I just hope it’s enough for my greedy little heart. I press my luck. “You want to watch that French movie together tonight? The one for your class?”
“Maybe,” he mumbles. “We’ll see.”
I roll my eyes. Mr. Elusive. My hands bear down on his traps and he groans with happiness. The sound does nice things to my insides. So I can’t help but lean down and kiss the back of his neck.
Affection comes easily to me, damn it. I am a yellow lab. Sue me. I give Bailey a terrific massage, interspersed with kisses. And when I’ve turned him into a relaxed puddle of a man, I spread my body out on his back and sigh. “Now I’m horny.”
“Of course you are,” he slurs. “I’m irresistible. That’s why we can’t watch that movie together later. I’m supposed to take notes. I’ll end up fucking you instead.”
“Or vice versa,” I tease, pushing my hips against his ass. “You know I’m going to have this sooner or later.”
He says nothing.
“It’s a good thing you’re not really a tomcat.”
“I so am.”
“Nope. I’d know.”
He turns his head to the side. “Am I going to learn something weird about cat sex right now?”
I grin, and graze his cheek with my lips. “A male cat has barbs on the back half of his penis.”
“Shut the front door.”
“It’s true. I’ll send you a photo later.” I kiss his neck.
“Of course you will.” With a ninja-like motion, he slides out from under me. But then he pulls me into his arms. “Thanks for making me feel better.”
“Any time.” If only you’d let me do it more often.
I kiss him instead of saying it aloud.
A Brother Named Joe
Luke
My phone vibrates with a notification as I’m changing into my running shorts. When I check, it’s a message from LobsterShorts. Sea salt & vinegar or BBQ?
Craving chips? I don’t like taking things from him. He knows that.
You said you’d go for a drive with me, he writes. I was gonna bring snacks.
Nothing for me. I’m heading out for a run.
After I hit send, I regret my answer. Chips sound pretty good right now, and lord knows I’m hungry. Dinner will almost certainly be another can of soup, and a few slices of cheese. I’m putting off my grocery store run, because only have $100 to get me through the next week. Or more, depending on the plumbing issues at Jill’s.
But my regret is bigger than that. I know it wo
uldn’t kill me to accept a bag of chips from Keaton. It wouldn’t kill me to spend more time with him, or to tell him more often how much I like his company.
I don’t, though. Affection doesn’t come naturally to me, to put it mildly. And I’ve been on edge since Keaton brought up the “C” and “D” words. And no, I don’t mean cock and dick. I love those words. I’m talking about him asking if we’re a couple, pointing out that we’re dating.
Fuck. How did we get here? I’ve had friends-with-benefits arrangements before, but none that have lasted more than three months. And clearly Hayworth is catching feelings.
I see the way he looks at me. It’s an unsettling combination of fascination, tenderness, and frustration. I see him biting his tongue a lot, as if he wants to dig deeper into my psyche, peel back my layers like I’m an onion.
I like Keaton a lot. But nobody gets to do that.
Usually I’m good at keeping my armor on. I don’t let anyone see what I don’t want them to see. But it’s getting harder to do that with Keaton. I really do like the guy. He makes me laugh. Makes me come. But this couple and dating talk makes my skin prickle with discomfort. Makes me want to flee.
Luckily, now that spring is here, I’m able to get back into my running routine. So I lace up my shoes and park my phone on the desk along with everything but my keys.
And then I jump down the stairs and head straight outside. I love feeling the wind slapping my face as my sneakers tear across the pavement. I find my rhythm and head for the end of the street.
There’s a great trail near campus, and today I run it twice, hoping the three miles of solitude might help to clear my muddled mind.
But the unease I’m feeling about my arrangement with Hayworth sticks to me like glue and follows me right back home. I’m sweating through my hoodie by the time I jog up the walk of the Alpha Delt house. When I open the door, Jako is lurking in a chair that nobody uses at the bottom of the stairs, looking troubled.
“Something wrong?” I pant.
“Maybe?” he says. “You tell me.”
Instantly, I’m on guard. The wariness in his eyes triggers my internal alarm. Why is he looking at me like that? Is this about Hayworth?
