Brad lost himself in the game. Now focused, he’d stopped dying every few minutes and got lost in the story. He skipped lunch in his quest of finding out what happened next and spent hours with his eyes glued to the large screen the PlayStation was connected to.
His stomach growled, a sharp pain accompanying the loud noise. With a pitiful sigh, he saved the game and went in search of a late lunch. He opened the fridge but didn’t feel like cooking anything. After a quick search on his phone, he decided he’d rather shower and change and get takeout from a nearby Vietnamese place. He might load up on more beer and energy drinks while at it. A notification chimed in and Brad tapped it out of habit. Ugh, it was a new photo of Tim planting a kiss on his girlfriend’s cheek. They were in a gorgeous pool, holding fruity cocktails. Fucker! Okay, maybe he should add hard liquor to his shopping list.
Brad decided to walk to the takeout place. It was only twenty minutes away, and he needed the fresh air to keep himself sane. He didn’t intend to leave the house again until Monday morning unless he absolutely had to.
The moment he stepped outside, he regretted his choice. It was the weekend, he remembered and cursed under his breath. Happy mommies and cute kids waving at him, or worse, saying “Happy Valentine’s Day.” It’s tomorrow. Brad wished he could scream that but knew he shouldn’t. The way this neighborhood looked, he’d get a bunch of moms chasing him for scaring their kids.
He power-walked to and from the little Vietnamese shop, carrying too much food for any sensible person. He’d ducked into a liquor store next and got himself some rum to mix with the coke he had at home. Stash safely in his hands, he made his way back to his brother’s place.
Lunch turned out to be a pretty depressing affair. Brad wanted to watch something while he ate, but all that seemed to be on were sugary romance flicks. Tim and Jim—he laughed for the umpteenth time at how funny that sounded—had a Netflix account, but they’d not logged in, and hadn’t bothered to tell him the password. He settled for one of the many sports channels: figure skating. It beat football and hockey in Brad’s book.
Now full and feeling sorry for himself, Brad eyed the rum bottle he’d bought. He checked the time. It was a bit too early to start drinking.
“Hey,” Jim said, propped against the living room door.
Brad jumped at the sound, then turned to glare at him. Jim had sneaked inside without making one measly sound. Maybe he’d been a cat in another life. Or a burglar.
“Isn’t it a little early for rum?”
Brad rolled his eyes. “I haven’t started yet. Considered it, but I managed to stop myself from drowning my pain in booze.”
Jim laughed, throwing his head back and exposing his long neck. A dark scruff covered his jaw and went down his throat, making him look delicious enough to make Brad swoon. “Why are you so upset over spending a weekend playing games?”
Brad raised an eyebrow. “I was supposed to do that with my brother. Doing it alone in someone else’s house is a bit of a downer.”
“I’ll play with you again.” Jim walked to the couch and plopped down next to Brad. “You should definitely bribe me with more of your home cooked meals.”
Eyeing the rum again, Brad nodded. “Fine, then prepare for an early dinner. I don’t think it’s safe for me to cook after we break into the rum bottle.”
“Deal. My only other request is for you not to make fun of how bad of a player I am. You were okay about yesterday, but I suppose you were desperate.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
A throw pillow hit the side of Brad’s face.
“Keep it up and it’s gonna be you and the booze for the rest of the weekend.”
Brad panicked, then realized Jim wasn’t serious about his threat. That shit-eating grin of his should have been registered as a deadly weapon. Brad swallowed hard and tried to focus on anything but those white teeth, full lips, and the pink tongue that peeked out to moisten them.
***
K.O. flashed on the screen as Brad’s character lost the third round.
“Yesss,” Jim shouted, dropping his controller on the couch and grinning like a fool. “I did it! I won!”
Brad stood and patted his back. “Good game, Jim.”
Jim’s grin fell, and he turned to stare at Brad. “You didn’t let me win now, did you?”
“No, I can safely say I did all I could to prevent that from happening.”
Jim frowned and stared at Brad, then broke into a smile. “Awesome. Can I tell Tim about it?”
Brad shrugged. “Play like that and you’ll show him, not just tell him. How about that dinner I promised?”
Jim’s stomach chose that moment to growl and they both laughed. “Yeah, I might need some food after all.” He looked at the controller longingly and sighed. “Let’s order in though. You can take a break from cooking.”
Brad didn’t protest. He was hungry and really didn’t feel like making something. He’d stocked up on all the junk snacks in the world, but when it came to proper food, he’d not bought anything frozen or precooked. Such a rookie mistake!
They settled on pizza from a place Jim swore by and moved into the kitchen, hunching over beers as they waited.
“You’re more fun to play with than you brother. Less obnoxious.”
Brad snorted. “I had to play with him growing up and our parents insisted we shared everything, including our games. I learned how not to act like a jerk fast.”
Tim was amazing at most games, but he was horrible about how good he was, especially when he played against someone else. Probably why he’d had to have his brother fly over for a gaming weekend. Brad was immune to both Jim’s insults and taunts. He’d learned how to focus on the gameplay and treat Tim like background noise.
“Pizza’s here,” Jim said and he was out the kitchen door before Brad had managed to comprehend the statement.
Brad looked around the kitchen, wondering if there was anything they needed. He got some wet wipes and an assortment of tomato sauces from the fridge and set them up on the table.
“Oh, man, I’m starving,” Jim said, dropping the two large pizza boxes on the table. He opened the first one and grabbed a slice before he had a chance to sit down.
Brad took his time. He liked putting spicy sauces on top, and there needed to be a certain amount on each slice. A drop too little or too many and it stopped tasting good. Jim had finished his slice by the time Brad took his first bite.
“So how come you’re single?” Jim asked, sounding surprised.
Brad shrugged. “Maybe I’m just not relationship material. I don’t know, man.” He reached for his beer, but it was empty. He stood to grab them two more but thought he’d better slow down. They’d broken into the rum before dinner and the beer added to the buzz. He settled for two cans of energy drink and set them on the table. “My looks don’t match my personality or something.”
Jim furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. “I don’t follow.”
“I look like a twink. And I am attracted to guys who are taller than me, stronger. Big and, unfortunately, the type that cling to their idea of being total tops. When you don’t enjoy bottoming, things cool off fast.” He looked away.
Brad spent lots of time considering his preferences. He’d tried to find all the reasons why he didn’t bottom, wondering if it was an issue of attitude or lack of trust. Despite all his brilliant ideas about the cause of this issue, which was the root of all his misery, he’d figured out fast that he simply did not enjoy it. Be balls deep in a sexy ass? Sure. The other way around? He’d just stay there and pray for it to be over.
“Totally get what you mean,” Jim said, getting a little rough with his pizza slice.
Brad perked up, his eyes widening as he waited for Jim to elaborate. Cut it out, you idiot! Maybe finding out something that made Jim even more appealing to him wasn’t the smartest idea Brad had ever had. Jim was his brother’s roommate and they lived in different cities. He’d also never shown an
y interest in Brad, so even if something happened, it would be a quick hookup. The type of liaison Brad insisted he no longer wanted. No, he needed to forget about how fucking sexy Jim was. Or how he’d crushed on Jim since the first time his brother had introduced the man.
“I honestly thought there weren’t any tops left. Since we got over ourselves and the stigma that came with bottoming, I found it harder to find someone who’s a top. Versatile at best. Maybe it’s the way I look, as you said.”
Brad shook his head. He’d heard other gay friends and acquaintances stating similar things, but he’d never had the same issue. Maybe this was as superficial as a looks thing. But Brad couldn’t help what he looked like, nor the fact he had a preference for men taller and stronger than he was.
They ate the rest of their food in silence, sipping their energy drinks, lost in their respective thoughts.
“Back to the fighting?” Jim asked as they were clearing the table.
Brad turned to face him and smirked. “I have a better idea. There’s this new platformer everyone’s talking about. Supposed to be super difficult. We can team up and try to beat it.”
“Cuphead?” Jim grinned, pleasure twinkling in his eyes. “I’ve heard everyone and their mother talking about it. Wasn’t there an article about how difficult it is?”
“Several. But that’s why most people love it.”
They rushed through putting the empty boxes away and headed for the living room. Brad switched to Cuphead and they both settled in as they watched their characters lose a bet with the Devil.
Half an hour later, they both understood what the fuss was all about. They also got just why the game apparently drove everyone insane.
“Did we reach our one hundredth death?” Jim said, rolling his shoulders.
“Not quite. Do you want to play something else?”
“Hell, no! I’m going to outplay these murderous flowers. Are you with me?”
Brad laughed and picked up his controller. “Let’s get them then.”
A minute later, they stared at their ghosts floating up on the screen, while the annoying announcement of their deaths taunted them.
It took hours of trying and failing to get anywhere. Their fingers ached and their eyes had taken an unhealthy gleam as Jim asked for one more try.
Brad took a deep breath and released it. He wanted to beat the game just as much, but wasn’t this super difficult? Way to find a relaxing game! Had Brad played this back in the day when he had some experience with platformers, he might have done better. Rusty was an understatement for how bad he’d gotten. It didn’t help that Jim had almost no gaming experience for this particular genre.
He stole a glance at Jim who looked about to let out a battle cry. Still, under all that determination, if Brad ignored the frequent cursing at the game, he could spot enjoyment. Brad found he was quite keen on making Jim happy, so he’d play this stupid game until Jim had his fill.
“Here we go!”
Brad nodded and grinned at Jim and off they were. Brad jumped and dodged and shot at their enemies. He slapped Jim’s characters here and there to bring him back to life. He swore, groaned, and shouted at the final boss. He wished he could wipe his sweaty fingers on his jeans, but kept his eyes glued to the screen and jumped and dashed.
“Oh my God, we did it!”
Brad gaped at the screen, watching their tally. B+ game. Wait, they’d won! He joined Jim in his weird jumping up and down and laughed, releasing all the tension of the game. They’d completed the first stage. They had two more to go, but Brad didn’t care.
They hugged and made incoherent sounds that might have been praise. They kept laughing, eyes wet with their pleasure.
Out of the blue, everything stopped. The air crackled with electricity, all sounds died down, and Brad found himself staring up at Jim, his breath coming out in pants.
Jim’s eyes had focused on him, the laughter having faded into a weak smile. Before he knew it, Brad was moving, pushing forward as Jim lowered his head. He moaned when their lips touched, clutching Jim’s shoulders and pulling him close. He opened up and met Jim’s hungry tongue, drunk on the man’s taste and on being crushed against Jim’s solid chest.
Brad shuddered, pushing himself closer, and pressing his lips to Jim’s. God, this felt good. Pleasure lit him up from the inside, goosebumps popping all over his body. Jim sucked on his tongue and Brad’s knees gave out. Jim caught him and pulled him back into the kiss.
Just as it had started, it stopped. The game’s music rushed back in and Brad’s eyes refocused. Jim looked pained. Wait, hadn’t he liked it?
“Shit, sorry, Brad. I shouldn’t have done that.”
But… wait, what? Brad shook his head, trying to form words. “You didn’t…” But Jim was already gone, leaving Brad dumbfounded and alone in the living room, the cartoon characters grinning at him, all cunning and condescending.
“Well, fuck you, Cuphead,” he muttered, shutting down the game and retreating to his room.
***
Brad groaned and turned on his other side, dragging the cover over his head. Stupid light, glaring at him and trying to wake him up… The audacity! He settled in and sighed, hoping to fall asleep again. Flashes of the night before bloomed behind his closed eyes and in a second, all hope of more sleep was thoroughly crushed. He cursed and threw the cover away, turning on his back and staring at the ceiling.
What the hell had that been about? The kiss had been intense. The hottest Brad had experienced in a long time. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt so wanted. Yet Jim had looked… remorseful when he’d broken the kiss. Like it had been wrong. Brad patted the bad and found a pillow. He covered his face with it and screamed.
A little more twisting and turning and Brad finally gave up. He got out of bed and decided to start his day. Shower, fresh clothes, and maybe breakfast.
As he walked into the kitchen, he realized he couldn’t be bothered with making anything. Not even coffee, which he definitely couldn’t survive without. Not after playing so late into the night.
Brad tapped on his phone as he left the house, looking for the nearest coffee shop. He found one with a cute sounding name and debated whether he should walk there or just get the car. He decided he needed the fresh air and the respite from running into Jim and dealing with that mountain of awkwardness.
It was early. Too early to be out and about on a Sunday morning. The blessing in disguise? Empty streets. No one to stare at him or annoy him with their Valentine’s wishes. Brad made his way to the coffee shop, got his order of caffeine fix and croissants and left. He could have enjoyed his treats right there, but the V Day decorations made him sick to his stomach.
He strolled back home, sipping his coffee and enjoying the view of manicured lawns, large trees dotting the sidewalk, and zero kids running around and playing.
Brad returned to a deadly quiet house. As Jim’s car was still parked outside, he assumed the man was sleeping. He dropped Jim’s coffee and croissant in the kitchen and brought the rest of his stash to the living room. He plugged in his headphones and proceeded to play and eat. Soon enough he was lost in the game, thoughts of Jim and how he’d react the next time Brad saw him relegated to the back of his mind. They kept pestering him, but at least they were less obnoxious about it.
Out of the blue, his headphones started slipping. Wait, no, they were going up. Eyes on the game, Brad tried to set them back on his ears, but they were gone.
“Morning,” a deep, gruff voice whispered in Brad’s ear, startling him.
Brad turned to find Jim smirking at him, holding his headphones in one hand.
“Oh, hey. Morning.” He checked the time and shrugged. Afternoon, morning, same thing.
“Want some lunch? I was thinking of making some.”
“Sure. Wait!” Brad shook his head and checked the time again. “I set up a delivery. Should be here in half an hour.”
“Oh, right.” Jim scratched his head, his e
yes blank.
“Why don’t we share that? If you can’t wait that long, there’s cold coffee and croissant in the kitchen. You can cook later, for dinner or something.”
“Sounds good.” Jim winked and handed Brad his headphones. “I need to take a shower. If the food’s not here, we can play together.”
Brad nodded so fast he got dizzy. Heart pounding in his chest, he returned to his game and waited for Jim to come back. He was so antsy, he couldn’t get lost in the world unfolding before him. Instead, he randomly focused on the sounds in the house. The shower running, doors opening and closing, stairs creaking. Oh, shit, he was tracking Jim. Bad Brad, he couldn’t do that. They’d kissed and it had gone from zero to awkward overload in a second. If Jim caught him being creepy and giving in to his long time crush… who knew how he’d react?
The doorbell chimed and Brad rushed to retrieve the food, thankful for the interruption. He gave the delivery guy a hefty tip, which he regretted seconds later when the customary “Happy Valentine’s Day” was thrown at him. Despite his annoyance, he realized it hadn’t bothered him as much. Maybe because the aroma of Vietnamese food tickled his nose and he knew he’d spend more of his dreaded day playing games with Jim. Nope, he wasn’t going there. He slammed the door shut and marched into the kitchen to get their lunch ready.
Brad had just finished setting the table when Jim walked in, hair still wet from his shower. He looked fresh and smelled divine. Upon realizing he knew that scent, it was Jim’s body wash, Brad cursed himself. He shouldn’t know all this stuff. The scent of the man’s shower gel and cologne shouldn’t be imprinted on Brad’s mind.
“That smells wonderful,” Jim said, sitting across the table from Brad
So do you, only better. Brad had to pinch himself hard to make sure he didn’t open his big mouth and say it out loud.
Be My Anti-Valentine Page 2
