by J. M. Snyder
Abruptly, Nathan sat up. “Gotta pee.”
Before Wes could respond, Nathan stood up on the bed, letting the blankets fall away from him. For one moment he stood above Wes, naked and so damn beautiful, an angel captured in flesh, every inch of him wonderful and glorious. And real, Wes thought, his gaze traveling down his friend’s slim body, his smooth skin. This is real, he’s here, with me, and he’s just waiting for Roger to be out of the way before he gives himself to me. He almost didn’t dare believe it.
Then Nathan jumped off the bed and scooped up his boxer briefs from the floor, where they sat bunched in a ball beside the sleeping dog. “Be right back.”
He hurried from the room, underwear in one hand. Wes heard the bathroom door open and close, the fan click on, and he settled back against his pillow before he remembered Roger’s phone call. “Pick up the fucking phone…”
That’s still on the machine.
He slipped out of the bed and stepped into his underwear again. He didn’t want Nathan to hear that message—it would piss the hell out of him, and Wes didn’t want to ruin this comfortable camaraderie between them. He’d wait until after lunch, or until Roger called again, or maybe even until after he talked to Roger and they weren’t a couple anymore, when the word “boyfriend” referred to Nathan, and then he’d mention it. Oh, you know he called me? he’d say, and they’d get a good laugh out of it.
Besides, Wes thought as he left his room, passing the closed bathroom door as he crossed the hall, it was so damn early and I was just freaked out a bit, that’s all. Roger didn’t mean any of it…he couldn’t have. He’s not here, is he? He suspected Roger wouldn’t even remember placing the call. He was just drunk. He didn’t mean it.
The little red light blinked on the answering machine. Wes traced a finger around the tiny playback button as he considered replaying the message, just to make sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. See that light? It’s him, waiting to yell at me all over again.
He didn’t have to hear it a second time. He didn’t want to. Bending down, he yanked the answering machine cord from the wall. The little red light blinked once more and then died.
Behind him the bathroom door opened. As he stood, Nathan came up behind him, his arms easing around Wes’s waist to pull him back against him. “There you are,” he murmured, kissing his neck. “I told you I was coming right back. Someone call?”
“No,” Wes told him. No one important. Turning, he forced Roger from his mind and smiled at Nathan. “Are you hungry? I think I still have some eggs.”
“Sure.” Nathan followed Wes into the tiny kitchen and hopped up on the counter beside the sink. Opening the fridge, Wes handed his friend the carton of eggs and what was left of the milk. But when he turned towards the stove, Nathan stuck out his legs and caught Wes between them. Folding his legs, he reeled Wes in, until Wes’s butt bumped against the counter where Nathan sat. Wes felt the earnest press of a budding erection against the small of his back. “Got you.”
“Are you always like this?” Wes asked with a silly grin. His whole body tingled at Nathan’s every touch, and he thought maybe he needed to get dressed because his briefs were already growing tight.
Nathan laughed against his neck. “This is a first for me,” he admitted. “Other guys I’ve been with just left in the morning.”
Roger would rather bite my head off than play like this, Wes thought as he let his hands trail down Nathan’s legs. The hair along Nathan’s thighs stood up like fuzz beneath Wes’s palms. Nathan’s ankles were crossed in front of his groin, laying against him with a sweet ache. “I thought you said you were hungry.”
“I’m starving,” Nathan growled, nibbling Wes’s shoulder.
He liked these little bites, the way Nathan’s teeth nipped at his skin, the damp imprint his friend’s lips left behind.
“But breakfast can wait.”
Wes laughed and twisted out of Nathan’s embrace. “We’re waiting, remember? You wanted to wait last night.”
Nathan sighed. “I was hoping maybe you forgot. I’m tired of waiting—don’t laugh at me!”
“It’s just been one day,” Wes told him with a grin, cracking the eggs into a pan. When Nathan stuck his foot out and pushed at his butt with his toes, Wes danced out of the way. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?”
“Then why wait any longer?” Nathan countered.
Wes rolled his eyes and laughed. “Your logic…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You should’ve been on the debate team at State.”
Nathan’s foot pushed against Wes’s ass again, his toes digging into the fabric of his underwear. “Come back here.”
“I’m making you something to eat,” Wes reminded him as he butted Nathan’s foot aside. “Got any big plans today?”
Nathan laughed. “I guess we have to get dressed at some point, right?”
“It might help,” Wes admitted with a smile.
“So maybe I should go back to my place, get some clean clothes, take a shower.” Nathan snagged his toes in Wes’s underwear and tried to pull him closer again. It didn’t work. “You come with me.”
“I should call Roger,” Wes said. “I think we need to talk.”
Nathan slid off the counter and stepped up behind him, rubbing at the small of his back. “I don’t want you talking to him alone,” he told Wes. “Wait until I come back—”
“It’ll just be on the phone,” Wes explained. “What can he do then?”
Nathan didn’t answer.
“I’ll be fine,” Wes assured him. “Really. I’ll break up with him over the phone and that’ll be it, it’ll be over.” With a wink, he added, “And when you come back, we won’t have to wait anymore.”
“Then you’ll be mine,” Nathan said.
How long had Wes been waiting to hear those words, in that voice?
Chapter 21
The morning wore on with no sign of Roger. Maybe he didn’t remember calling. Wes waited for the phone to ring, hoping his boyfriend would call back, because he didn’t want to wake Roger up out of an alcohol induced slumber and tell him they were through…that wouldn’t go over too well. He wanted Roger to sober up and call first, apologize for what he’d said earlier, maybe ask if they could get together later on in the day, and then Wes could tell him no, he didn’t think so. He even knew what he’d say, how he’d say it. You know, Roger, this just isn’t working out, any of it. I think we should maybe just leave it at that, what do you say? I’ve got some of your things here, you can come pick them up, and hey, have a nice life, because I intend to. Goodbye.
But Roger had never been one to do what Wes wanted. He was nothing if not unpredictable, and a little before noon Wes decided he wouldn’t worry about it anymore. It wasn’t worth it, not with Nathan around, demanding attention Wes was all too willing to give. As he lay on the bed and watched Nathan shrug into his transparent shirt, he pointed out, “You forgot your undershirt.”
“I know.” Nathan had left his tank top on the floor, where it rested on the briefs Wes had discarded in favor of fresh underwear and a clean pair of jeans. When Nathan buttoned the shirt, his chest looked gray through the black gauzy material, his nipples dark circles. “I’m going to leave little bits of me all over this place,” he told Wes, smiling as he ran a hand through his hair to push it from his face. “Then when I’m not here, you’ll still think of me.”
Wes laughed. “I’m always thinking about you.”
As Nathan stepped into his shoes, Wes rose from the bed and pulled on a T-shirt. When he noticed it was one of Roger’s, he tugged it off. He’d have to get his boyfriend’s things together…his ex-boyfriend; he liked the sound of that. He couldn’t trust Roger to do it. There were a few shirts mixed in among his, a pair of sunglasses on the bathroom sink, jeans he knew were in the hamper, a couple CDs…he’d put everything in a paper bag and have it ready by the door so they wouldn’t waste any time. Here you go, take care. That’s what he’d say, that’s it.<
br />
He dug another shirt from his drawer and slipped it on. Standing in front of the dresser, he combed the hair from his face and smiled at Nathan, who watched him in the mirror. “You about ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Nathan replied. “I’m coming right back, you know that.”
“I know.” Wes laughed as Nathan hugged him tight, his friend’s arms so comfortable around him that he couldn’t imagine not being in them before. When Nathan started kissing his neck, though, Wes reminded him, “I’ll still be here when you get back.”
Nathan sighed. “I know. I’m bringing a change of clothes this time. So I don’t have to go back right away.”
“Good idea,” Wes said.
As they left the apartment, Wes held Nathan’s hand in a vise-like grip and tried to look everywhere at once. What if Roger wasn’t going to call? What if he was outside in his car, waiting for them to come out? What if he drove down the street and saw them? What if—
What if you just stop worrying about it?
Wes led Nathan to where he’d parked the day before, sure Roger would be there, sitting on the hood and grinning his devilish grin, the one that never quite made it to his eyes. Or maybe he broke into the car and was stretched out on the back seat. Or maybe he slashed the tires, or keyed the doors, or smashed the windshield, or—
Maybe he’s still passed out.
There was no one at his car. The tires were fine, the doors fine, the windshield fine.
I’m just over-reacting, that’s all. He’s not the greatest guy when he’s been drinking but he’d never really hurt me. Yeah, he’s rough some times, but he’s not evil.
Still, he felt a little better, a little safer, when he slid behind the driver’s seat, Nathan beside him, his hand giving Wes’s knee a reassuring squeeze. It wasn’t a long ride to Sandy’s Grill, where Nathan’s car was the only one in the parking lot—it was Sunday, the restaurant closed. So no one can see us, he thought, pulling up beside Nathan’s car. At least there’s that.
Nathan got out of the car and jogged around to the other side. Leaning into Wes’s open window, he promised, “I won’t be long.” Then he kissed Wes, a quick peck on the lips, and stepped away from the door. Before Wes could put the car into gear, though, he was back, leaning through the window and claiming another kiss, this one lingering and soft. “You sure you don’t want to come with me?” he murmured against Wes’s lips.
Wes laughed. “Nathan—”
“I know, I know,” Nathan conceded. This time when he moved away, Wes shifted into reverse and took his foot off the clutch, letting the car ease back. “Give me fifteen minutes,” Nathan called out. “I’d make it ten but it’ll take me that long to get there and back.”
“You can take a five minute shower?” Wes asked, skeptical.
Nathan grinned and winked as he unlocked his own car door. “I was just going to grab some clothes and use your shower. I was thinking you could join me…”
“Oh, you were now, were you?” Wes teased, but his groin stirred at the thought of the two of them together in his tiny bathroom, naked and wet and hard, and he didn’t think that was such a bad idea after all. “Fifteen minutes, then.”
Is it awful to admit that I can’t wait? Wes wondered as he pulled out of the parking lot. At the corner he sat, engine idling, until Nathan’s car stopped behind his. Wes waved.
In the rearview mirror he saw Nathan blow him a kiss before turning down a side street, heading home.
At his own apartment building, Wes parked out front, where he usually did. No use hiding now, was there? Not when he needed to talk to Roger anyway. And fifteen minutes was enough time to get him on the phone, tell him that they were through, that was it. It wouldn’t be so bad over the phone, he reasoned as he took the steps two at a time up to his apartment. He could hear his dog bark as he unlocked the door, and she pounced on his legs when he stepped into the hall, wagging her tail as if he had been gone for days instead of just a few minutes. “He’s coming right back, girl,” he told her, rubbing her head as he closed the door behind him. “He’ll be back, you wait and see.”
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the phone. Dread rose like indigestion in him, but he tamped it down. Might as well get this over with. He felt nervous and weary and excited all at the same time. Crossing the hall, he dialed Roger’s number. As the phone rang in his ear, he bent down beneath the table to plug the answering machine back in. Come on, Roger, he thought, listening to the ring, over and over and over again. Answer already. Are you that out of it? Pick up the damn phone—
“Hey,” Roger’s voice purred in his ear. Sober, wide awake, and obviously a recording. “Thanks for calling me. Leave a message and I’ll hit you back.”
Wes hung up and dialed again. He knew Roger couldn’t sleep through a ringing phone—even passed out, he would get up and holler at him to answer the fucking thing already. But when he got the machine a second time, Wes didn’t bother to dial again. “Fine,” he muttered, slamming the phone down. “You don’t want to talk to me? Fine. Fuck you, too.”
Behind him the dog growled. “It’s okay,” he told her as he stepped into the kitchen. “He’ll call when he’s good and ready and then I’ll tell him about Nathan.” The dog growled again, a menacing sound from the back of her throat. Wes turned on the water in the sink and tried to ignore her.
She barked once, a sharp sound loud in the small apartment. “Hey!” Wes called out over the sound of the running water. “Cut that out.”
She barked again. Turning off the water, Wes wiped his hands on a towel and hurried into the hallway. “Stop it,” he admonished, popping the dog’s backside with the towel. The dog turned to nip at the towel and gave off a ragged growl. “What’s gotten into you?”
A loud knock on the front door startled him and set the dog barking again.
Wes glanced at his watch—Nathan was quick, he thought, uneasy. Five minutes to his place, five back…has it been fifteen already?
He didn’t think so.
The knock came again, and this time the door knob rattled. As he hurried to answer it, he heard Roger’s voice through the door. “Open this bitch up!”
Wes’s hand trembled above the twisting knob.
Roger tugged on the knob again, hard, banging the door against the jamb. At Wes’s feet, the dog growled. “I know you’re in there,” Roger called out. “Your goddamn car’s in the street. Open up—”
“Hold on.” Wes hoped he sounded calmer than he felt, but his mind was a whirlwind of fear. He’s here. HERE. Why didn’t he call? Did he see Nathan? Oh, my God, does he KNOW? The knob twisted in his hand as he unlocked the door. “Roger, I said…”
His boyfriend shoved into his apartment, dressed in the same clothes he’d had on when he left the day before, only now they were rumpled, slept in, and reeked of smoke and beer. His signature shades were shoved up on his forehead and a lit cigarette dangled from his teeth. “What took you so long?” Roger asked.
Wes’s mouth formed words his throat wouldn’t speak.
Roger didn’t notice as he pushed past Wes to pet the dog. “Hey there, Queerbo.” Still riled, the dog nipped at him. “Fucker,” he muttered. “What the hell are you teaching this mutt?”
He wasn’t drunk—Wes could see that in the fluid way his boyfriend moved, like oil over water. But he was furious, his anger hidden beneath that false smile, those sparkling eyes.
Turning around, Roger winked at him. “You miss me, babe?” When Wes didn’t answer, he headed down the hall for the bedroom. “I wish you had come out with us last night. You’d like Jay—the new guy down at work. He’s a trip, a real hoot.”
Wes followed him, hesitant. Call Nathan, a voice inside whispered, but how would he ever explain that? He should be back soon, Wes assured himself. Just keep Roger talking. Give Nathan a few minutes.
In the bedroom Roger stretched out on the bed and laughed. Wes didn’t like that sound, not one bit. “You’ll never belie
ve who I ran into at the club. Sandy? From the grill? You know him, right?”
From the doorway, Wes closed his eyes and groaned. Oh, fuck.
Chapter 22
“He asked about you,” Roger said.
Wes didn’t want to know what Sandy had to say. “Oh, really?” he asked, leaning against the door jamb and praying Nathan was on his way back. He couldn’t deal with Roger alone, he thought as he watched Roger stretch out along the length of his bed. I can’t handle him, I never could, who the hell was I trying to kid?
Propping himself up on the mussed sheets, Roger watched him. “Don’t you want to know what he had to say?”
No.
But Wes had never been one to talk back to Roger and it was too easy to fall into that pattern again, to just shrug and let his boyfriend take control. Ex-boyfriend, his mind whispered, but Wes ignored it.
When he didn’t reply, Roger pushed himself off the bed and crossed the room, his predatory eyes never leaving Wes’s face. His was a hungry, demanding gaze that Wes couldn’t quite seem to meet. But Roger stopped before he reached Wes; at the dresser, he picked up a bottle of cologne, opened it, inhaled the thick scent, then put it back. He picked up the next bottle, sniffed it. The next. The next.
From the doorway Wes could just see Nathan’s tank top where it lay discarded on the floor. Please don’t notice it, he prayed as Roger sniffed another bottle of cologne. Please don’t see it and pick it up and ask me when I wore it, please. He didn’t even know if it was his size, if he could pretend it was his at all.
When it became obvious Roger wasn’t going to speak, Wes asked, “What did Sandy say?” He hoped Roger couldn’t hear the fear in his voice.
Roger answered with a question of his own. “What was that scent you wore to the party?”
Nathan. It had been Nathan’s cologne Roger smelled on Wes’s neck that night, Nathan he could smell now, heady in the sheets and the air and all over Wes again.
