Be My
Anti-Valentine
A Short Story
Alina Popescu
Be My Anti-Valentine
Copyright © 2017 Alina Popescu
All rights reserved.
http://alina-popescu.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Be My Anti-Valentine
Meet Alina Popescu
More from Alina Popescu
BRAD SCOWLED AT THE AIRPORT DISPLAY. He scrunched his nose and gagged when more reddish nonsense attacked him with its overflowing commercial love feel. Valentine’s Day is the worst!
He rearranged his large backpack. He had to hunch forward because of its impressive weight. It didn’t look that big but weighed a ton. A blackboard announcing a V Day special at a coffee shop blocked Brad’s path. He growled at it and stepped around the god-awful thing, looking for his destination. He couldn’t see the car rental place, so he pulled out his phone to look for directions.
By the time he made it to their desk and gotten a key to his rental, Brad was ready to gouge his eyes out. He’d had it with all the hearts and flowers and pastel fondants. And all that freaking chocolate! And couples making kissy faces. Definitely the worst holiday ever invented.
Good thing I can avoid it all weekend long!
Valentine’s Day was a pest when it fell on a weekday. Having it on a weekend? That was just vicious. Two and a half days of “celebrating love” just to forget it on Monday.
He placed his backpack in the trunk, careful of its position and what it might bump against in traffic. It looked safe enough. Brad got behind the wheel and tapped his phone. His first destination was a larger grocery store near his brother’s place. And by near, he understood it to be miles and miles away. Why Tim had decided to rent a place in the suburbs was beyond Brad.
Brad’s older brother’s only redeeming quality after making the mistake of moving to such a boring place was his newfound status of dumpee. Tim’s girlfriend had finally had it with him acting like a playboy wannabe and had dumped him a week earlier. Which meant Brad now had a partner in crime for his usual Anti-Valentine stint: lots of gaming, action movies, and mountains of junk food. Beer and energy drinks too, he couldn’t forget that.
He followed the GPS directions out of the airport and settled in for the drive to his brother’s. Okay, there was one benefit to Tim moving to that dreadful suburb. Once he was out of the airport, there wasn’t much traffic, as most of it crawled towards the city.
Brad tapped his phone again and a moment later music blared through the car’s speakers. Some hard rock, nothing like the slow, romantic crap they played on all radio stations for this commercial scam of a holiday. He sang along, banging his head and tapping the steering wheel. He’d just had a haircut, so his bangs no longer fell into his eyes, impairing his vision every time he moved.
He sang all the way to the store. Once he’d parked, he waited for the song to reach its loud conclusion before going inside. He grabbed a cart and wheeled it around, filling it up with snacks, the most un-Valentine sweets, energy drinks, and two six packs of his favorite beer.
It all went great, right up until Brad said goodbye to the cashier. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she chirped, grinning at him.
He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded at her. He couldn’t risk opening his mouth, he might end up ranting about the evils of the stupid day for an hour straight. Luckily, she’d already moved on to the next customer, unfazed by his lack of enthusiasm.
Brad hauled his shopping bags into the trunk. He stared at everything for a full minute, then decided the precious cargo in his backpack wasn’t safe any longer. He couldn’t let his baby, his prized gaming laptop, be damaged in any way, so he moved it to the back seat.
He switched the GPS app to his brother’s new address and shot him a text to say he’d arrive in fifteen minutes or less. Turning the music back on, he drove out of the parking lot and smiled at the road ahead. A full weekend of nothing but quality time with his brother. He wouldn’t have to worry about how he never found guys who wanted to stick around for more than a hookup. Nor about how he didn’t fit what was expected for his looks. All those worries and the slimy way Valentine’s Day forced him to focus on them, all that could go straight to hell.
When he got to his brother’s street, Brad slowed down. The houses looked so similar, he had to try and spot the numbers. Perfectly coiffed lawns, bright white colors, tip-top shape roofs, and the occasional amateur gardener working on their flower beds or homegrown herbs. God, what had possessed his twenty-something brother to move here? Judging by the few people Brad had noticed, it looked like the parents were too old and the kids too young for Tim to make new friends. He’d moved in with a friend from college, but that was it. Brad hadn’t even spotted a decent bar or club around. What the hell did they do for fun?
“You have arrived at your destination.”
Brad perked up at the phone’s announcement and pulled into the driveway. The house, the garden… it all looked so grown up. Was it because Tim had just turned twenty-six? Did he feel compelled to act the adult part? Brad supposed there was nothing wrong with his older brother turning responsible, but why did he have to also become boring in the process? He couldn’t judge though. Brad was only a year younger and he already acted like an old fart. Work, home, work, home, outing with work buddies where they talked shop… Yeah, Brad might have lived in the heart of a city, but being near clubs, bars, art galleries, museums, and a large assortment of theaters and cinemas didn’t mean he took advantage of them. He’d turned into a hermit over the past year. Maybe it had been all the bad dates. Or maybe Brad’s increasingly antisocial ways were to blame.
He carefully slid his arms through the backpack shoulder straps, then opened the trunk to grab some of the grocery bags. As always, he took too many of them and walked awkwardly to the door. Once in front of the entrance, he realized he couldn’t ring the doorbell. He still tried to press it with his shoulder but failed. Brad propped the shopping bags against his legs, then rang it with gusto. Once. Twice. Nothing. He took a deep breath and rang it again.
What the hell was Tim doing? He used the door knocker, and when that didn’t work any better, he used his fist to bang against the door. He huffed when the damned contraption remained locked and pulled out his phone. He called Tim, but it went straight to voicemail. Cursing under his breath, he alternated between ringing and knocking, with occasional pummeling for emphasis.
“Hold your fucking horses,” a gruff voice said through the door. A sleepy Jim yanked the door open and glared at Brad.
Brad had to swallow hard. He’d always had a thing for his brother’s friend, but it seemed to have gotten worse with time. It didn’t help that Jim was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, top button open. His body was perfect. Nice muscles, just enough to make him sexy and not overly bulky. Taller than Brad, his skin a few shades darker than Brad’s own pasty white. Brown, curly hair framing his face in that sexy, just got out of bed tousle. People worked on that look for hours, using products so expensive, they rivaled Brad’s collector edition games.
“Brad? What are you doing here?”
“Umm, I came to spend the weekend.”
Jim arched an eyebrow, leaning on the door frame. “Did you get the wrong weekend?”
“What the hell, Jim?” Brad picked the bags up and barged in, pushing Jim out of the way. The guy wasn’t gorgeous enough for Brad to excuse his being a dick.
Brad stopped a few steps and turned to Jim. “Kitchen?”
“First door on your left.”
He dropped his load on the breakfast bar, then marched outside to bring in the rest.
“So, where is my de
arest brother? Sleeping off a wild night in the suburbs?” he said as he unpacked his shopping.
“Tim’s off to Cancun. Weekend cruise with his girlfriend.”
“What?” Brad dropped the pack of energy drinks he was holding. It clanked against the bar’s surface. “What girlfriend? He couldn’t have gotten a new one that fast.”
Jim smirked and shook his head. “Old girlfriend. They made up and took off for Valentine’s Day.”
“But he was supposed to spend the weekend with me,” Brad said, hating his whiny tone. Still, he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.
“You or a weekend of make-up sex with a hot girl who’s too good for him? Yeah, I totally see where he went wrong.”
Brad glared at Jim and threw a bag at chips, just missing him. “He could have told me before I came here.”
“Not my problem. So are you going home?”
Brad’s jaw fell, his eyes bulging out at Jim’s ridiculous suggestion. “No, I have a morning flight on Monday. Do you have any idea how expensive a last-minute flight change would be?”
“Fine.” Jim turned his back to Brad and walked out of the kitchen. “Guest room is the last door on the right, top floor. Don’t annoy me this weekend or I’ll throw you out.”
***
Brad had unpacked the groceries and stored them, then taken his backpack to the guest room and showered. He was now in the middle of cooking pizza from scratch, and he still felt on edge. He’d taken his anger out on the dough, and it turned out perfect. But the abandonment and the feeling of not mattering to anyone? That hadn’t gone anywhere. Tim had been a total dick. Brad doubted he’d forgotten to tell his brother he was bailing. No, Tim had avoided the confrontation and probably hoped Brad would feel better by the next time they saw each other.
He severed a chunk of dough and started spreading it, then arranged it on a pizza tray he’d found, probably a leftover from the former tenants. Tim sure as hell wouldn’t own one. He spread tomato sauce and a generous amount of mozzarella on top, then decorated the pizza with salami, ham, green pepper slices, and mushrooms. The oven dinged to let him know it had reached the temperature he’d set. Right on time. One pizza in the oven, he started cutting up fixings for the second one. He eyed the dough and realized it was enough for four large ones. It would keep for a few days though.
“Did you get pizza?” Jim asked from the kitchen doorway.
Brad glared at him and returned to cutting up perfect slices of mushroom.
“Oh, you’re making pizza.”
“Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious.”
Jim chuckled and ruffled Brad’s hair. Brad hated that. Brad snarled at him, but Jim ignored him. “Sorry for earlier. I’d only been asleep for two hours.”
Well, fuck you if that’s what you look like after two hours of sleep. If it were Brad, he’d look worse than death. “Okay,” he mumbled, then went to check on the pizza. Hmm, it smelled delicious. It would probably taste good too, especially now that he had perfected the dough.
“Seriously, man. Your brother was a dick. You didn’t need me acting like one too.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you sharing the pizza?” Jim wiggled his eyebrows at him and smiled that model smile that made Brad weak in the knees.
Brad closed his eyes and sighed. “Sure. Why not?”
“Awesome.” Jim pulled out a stool and sat on the other side of the table. “Can I have one of those beers you brought?”
“Get it yourself, Cavanaugh. And get me one while you’re at it.”
Jim smiled and went to the fridge. “Fair enough. You’re cooking after all.”
They drank their beers in silence, which was fine by Brad. He still felt dejected and the mere idea of small talk exhausted him. He took the first pizza out of the oven and placed it on the breakfast bar to cool off while he got the second one ready to bake.
“So why are you in on this anti-Valentine crap? Mopey McTim I get, he’d been dumped at the time.”
Brad used the respite of sticking the pizza into the oven to think his answer through. He and Jim weren’t close friends. But he was Tim’s best friend. Seeing how joined at the hip they were, he’d probably be part of the Jones brothers’ lives for a very long time. And Brad needed to unload.
“The gods of love and romance haven’t been kind to me,” Brad said. “I usually spend Valentine’s avoiding it. I game and I eat junk food. This year I was supposed to share it with my brother.”
“A weekend of video games and tasty food? I’ve heard of worse options.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Jim waited for Brad to cut the pizza before snatching a slice and dragging it on one of the plates he’d set out. Brad loaded up his own plate and started munching.
“So who broke your heart?” Jim asked, then stuffed his face with pizza, moaning at the taste.
“No one. I haven’t gotten to that point yet.”
“Ah, so you don’t want to get involved?”
“More like I choose men who don’t want to get involved with me,” Brad mumbled. “So what are your big plans for this shitty holiday?”
“Catch up on sleep.”
Brad stared at Jim. That didn’t make any sense. “Yeah, that sounds worse than my plans.”
“Except I’m not all bummed out about Valentine’s like you are. It’s not even a bank holiday.”
Brad shrugged and moved the pizza away from Jim, making sure he couldn’t get another slice. “Want to reconsider making fun of my pain?”
Jim licked his lips which were trembling with a tentative smile. “Sorry about that. Now hand over the pizza.”
Between the two of them, they polished off the two large pizzas in no time. New beers in hand, they moved on to lighter topics. Work, family, plans for vacations.
“I feel like I’m supposed to be the host here,” Jim said, scratching his jaw. The rasp of his five o’clock shadow made Brad squirm.
“Don’t worry about me. I have my laptop and my games, I can entertain myself.”
“Or you could play with me. I’d give up sleep for a good game.”
“Okay, let me clean up and I’ll bring my stash to the living room.”
“I’ll clean up, you show me what you’ve got.”
Was that a leer? Nah, impossible. Brad knew Jim was gay, but the man had never flirted with him. Why start now? Maybe he was just feeling sorry for Brad. Even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t work out. Not even as a hookup.
Brad sighed as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. The bane of his existence: he looked like a twink and people expected him to be a total bottom. Especially the guys he was attracted to, bigger than him, buff and sexy. The dominant types that liked to top. Or told themselves they liked to, anyway. Coaxing them out of their preconceptions took time, and Brad didn’t feel like it right now.
He returned with his backpack and pulled out his PlayStation stash, along with his lucky controller. He let Jim browse through his games, answering questions when needed, and trying to forget his fleeting thoughts about bending Jim over the couch and fucking him silly. What the hell was wrong with him? It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the man before. Or that he wasn’t used to how sexy he was. Brad had drooled over him ever since Tim’s first year of college when they’d met. He’d managed to act like a decent human being before. And an offhanded leer that was meant as a joke shouldn’t turn Brad into a horny teenager.
They settled on a racer, then started playing. A few races into it, Brad relaxed. They taunted each other and bumped shoulders to force the other to make a wrong move, laughing at their antics. This was what Brad had planned for. Just some good ol’ fun. Games, beer, junk food, and bro time. Without his actual brother, Jim would have to do.
Brad sneaked in a quick once over and grinned to himself. The view was definitely better.
They played until well after midnight, switching to a fighting game featuring a crazy Japanese mix of anime and visual novel characters. It meant vampire
s, witches, mecha maids, and an assortment of comic relief characters that they could pit against each other. They’d had so much fun, it was hard to call it a night. When they did, regret filled Brad. He wasn’t ready for this to be over.
“See you in the morning,” Jim said, then disappeared into his room.
“Yeah, see you.” Brad stared after him for a long time before deciding to get ready for bed. He’d have preferred to feel sorry for himself a little longer, but he was too exhausted for it. He could save it for the next day.
***
Brad threw his controller on the couch and cursed. Stupid game was kicking his ass. It wasn’t even hard, but Brad couldn’t focus.
He’d woken up to an empty house. He had no clue where Jim was, and the guy hadn’t bothered to leave a note. Brad winced at that thought. Why should Jim have left one anyway? They were housemates for a weekend, nothing more.
Brad had tried hard to keep himself occupied. He’d made himself breakfast and had gone for a long walk through the neighborhood. Then he’d wanted to play a game on his laptop and he’d made the mistake of checking his social media. A flood of extreme sappy status updates and photos later, most of them from his brother, Brad was thoroughly dejected.
What was wrong with him that he couldn’t find a meaningful relationship? He’d tried, he’d put himself out there. It just didn’t work. Maybe men under thirty didn’t want something serious. He knew he came across as old fashioned because he had “traditional” views. He didn’t think wanting a committed relationship was a bad thing, but apparently open relationships were the highest level of involvement now and wanting something else was uncool. Or maybe he just had the bad habit of running into assholes.
Back in college, Brad had adored Valentine’s Day. He’d never had a steady boyfriend, but it didn’t matter. V Day parties were the best for hookups. Now that he was older, that casual dating routine no longer satisfied him. Yet it felt like he was the only one who’d grown out of one-night stands and fuck buddies.
He sighed and stared at his abandoned controller. He’d switched to a console to avoid his social media. Maybe he should give the game another try. Getting his ass kicked sucked less than sinking into a dark pit of sadness. Besides, the protagonist had a great body. He was okay with staring at a 2D piece of ass for a while longer.
Be My Anti-Valentine Page 1
