Princes of the Universe

by Serene Franklin

  Of course I was. Bryan refreshed our drinks and movie snacks while I took Prince out for a quick bathroom break then we were back on the couch. Prince took the far left cushion, sprawling out and resting her head on the arm rest, so I sat next to Bryan and hoped he wouldn’t think it was weird. I was pretty tense, caught up in wondering if I should have just made Prince move or asked if he minded. By the time the movie started I realized I was too far inside my head again; Bryan wasn’t remotely uncomfortable with my presence, and I needed to relax. I opened my beer, leaned back into the cushions, and paid no mind to how my shoulder touched Bryan’s, or how our knees occasionally bumped.

  Six

  Bryan

  “Bro, what are you doing?”

  The alarm in Mac’s voice snapped me out of my daze, and I looked down at the frying pan to see that I’d burned a pancake. “Shit, my bad.” I scooped out the mess and set the pan aside to cool as Mac took a seat at the counter.

  “What’s on your mind? You were miles away just now.”

  I took a deep breath and recounted the events of my evening with Eli. I downplayed how much my pulse raced when Eli sat next to me instead of at the other end of the couch. No, I didn’t at all mention how much heat his body gave off, or that I needed to force myself to take steady breaths so my pulse didn’t pound loud enough for Eli to hear. I tried to change the subject and discuss the movies with him, but he didn’t bite.

  “I can hear what you’re not saying. You forget that trying to keep shit from me is pointless.” He scratched at the short blond scruff along his jaw while eyeing me knowingly.

  I sighed because it was all I could do. Like he’d said, there was no point in leaving parts of the truth out or lying. “I care about him. Believe me, I’m not going to act on it—that never works out.” To say I crashed and burned in my previous attempts at romancing straight men would be an egregious understatement, although the last time was the worst. That guy had a pregnant girlfriend I didn’t know about and strung me along until the baby was born. I vowed not to make that mistake again, and Mac vowed never to let me make it.

  “You can try some distance? You guys hanging out is new. Slow it down before it’s too late and you’re miserable.”

  I vehemently shook my head and braced my hands against the edge of the counter. “No, I can’t do that. First of all, I don’t want to hurt Eli in any way. He doesn’t put himself out there often, and it would probably crush him to be rejected after doing so.”

  “Perhaps you’re singing your praises a bit too highly?” Mac deadpanned.

  “Shut it,” I said with only mild frustration. “Second, I don’t want to see him less. If anything, I want to see him more.”

  “But it’s okay for you to get hurt?”

  My gut reaction was to say that I wouldn’t, but I knew it was a rhetorical question, and by getting defensive I’d be adding more weight to Mac’s already valid point of view. I took a couple of deep, calming breaths and chose my next words carefully. “We can’t know for sure that I will. I’m friends with plenty of straight guys I don’t want to fuck, and—”

  “Who said anything about fucking? Got something on the brain?” Mac asked, the triumph clearly detectable in his voice.

  He was right, and I couldn’t deny it, so I did what any well-adjusted, mature adult would do and flipped him off.

  “I don’t want you to get in over your head, Bry. I love you like a brother, but you’re borderline unbearable when you’re all mopey. If it happens again, I might actually smother you in your sleep.” His smile softened his words, but his warning was clear. I was pretty sure we both already knew I was past the point of heeding his warnings though.

  “I hear you. I do.”

  “Good.” Mac slid down across the counter until his face was pressed against it. “If we’re done having a moment, are you going to finish making breakfast before I die?”

  A much-needed laugh rolled through me, and I ruffled Mac’s hair before moving the cooled pan back onto the front burner. Mac put on some music—“I Am a God” by Kanye—and booted up his laptop before coming back over to the kitchen to eat the hot raspberry pancakes I’d just served up. He thanked me and dug right in before I’d even set the syrup in front of him.

  “So,” he began, “when do I get to meet your new friend?”

  I poured more batter into the pan and watched bubbles immediately begin to break the surface. “I’m not sure. We briefly talked about him coming over here last night and he said he’d like to.” Mac’s eyes went wide and he sucked in an excited gasp, but I shut that shit down. “If he comes over here do you promise to play nice?”

  Mac scoffed and took another bite of his breakfast. “I’m always nice—I’m like a fucking golden retriever.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, Dad. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  I piled another pancake on his plate and turned the burner off. “Hurry up and finish. I want your opinion on the space before we go to the game.” We were playing against some of Axel’s friends in a few hours. They were a decent team, but we were better.

  “You want my opinion? Pick a name for your damn bakery, already.”

  I smirked and waggled my brows. “That’s part of what you’re going to be helping me with. Bring clothes; you can get dirty too.”

  Eli warned me to have an open mind when we watched The Phantom Menace a few days later. It definitely wasn’t what I was expecting, and the Jar Jar guy was kind of annoying, though Darth Maul made up for it with his sheer badassery. Oh, and Liam Neeson and Ewan McGregor. Eli looked about ready to rage-quit the movie every time Jar Jar opened his mouth—it was equal parts hilarious and adorable, and I didn’t even bother trying not to laugh.

  I’d cooked again that night and discovered that Eli had strong feelings against onions. I persuaded him that the dish needed them then spent most of my prep time all but mincing them into a paste. My extra efforts were well worth it when we sat down to eat and Eli’s face lit up after the first bite of spaghetti primavera. He’d conceded that onions weren’t so bad after that.

  Mac had been helping me with the bakery nearly every day for at least a couple of hours—and we’d even come up with a name. I had a meeting with Eli at noon to go over some early plans and tell him about the name I’d chosen. We could have done it by email just fine, but I wanted to see him and show him how the kitchen was coming along. With half an hour until Eli was set to arrive, I halted work and released Mac from his task of painting the walls and ceiling. He guessed that Eli was coming by and teased me for being a lovesick puppy before he finally did leave.

  Eli showed up ten minutes ahead of schedule and came straight back to the kitchen at my request. I’d like to think he looked extremely happy to see me, but that was probably me reading too far into a simple smile and friendly greeting.

  “Whoa, you’ve made a lot of progress from a couple weeks ago,” Eli said, his head darting around, taking in the brand-new commercial appliances and counters. His eyes stopped on the half-painted wall Mac had been working on. “Do you need any help finishing up painting?”

  The half-painted wall was white, and I had off-white paint all over my hands and clothes so it was pretty clear I hadn’t been the one working on that space. “You don’t have to. I’m not about to turn down the help or company, though. Mac was here earlier, but he’s been helping out all week, and I sent him home.” So we could meet in private.

  “We can look at my ideas when we’re finished painting. I don’t have any other appointments this afternoon, so I’ve got nowhere to be.”

  I set Eli up with one of my old T-shirts, which hung loose on his lean body in a way that made my mind go straight to the gutter. I’d been trying not to let my thoughts of Eli stray, and I didn’t let myself think about the video of us a few keyboard strokes away out of respect for him. But seeing him wearing my clothes did something to me I couldn’t control. I wanted to pin him to the counter and rip his clothes of
f to get access to that expanse of smooth skin I was unable to forget.

  Eli’s unassuming smile snapped me out of my thoughts, and I found myself feeling guilty. Betraying his friendship wasn’t an option and I had to try harder to keep my thoughts in order. It wasn’t his fault that my control was slipping, but it would be a problem for both of us if I didn’t smarten the hell up and rein it in.

  I set him up with fresh brushes, instructions, and a ladder then went back to the walls I was working on. We chatted for the first few minutes then I put on some music, which only made me imagine that we were in a movie and we’d have a cute paint-fight montage and then have se—

  No. No, no, no. Shutting that shit down.

  God, I was reverting back to my teenaged self all over a damn T-shirt. That wasn’t entirely true, was it? It was all Eli, and that was what Mac had tried to warn me about. Ugh, oh well. I’d already decided I wouldn’t stop seeing him, so I’d deal with my new problem a different way.

  As if he had telepathy and sensed my inner struggle, Mac texted me.

  M: Have you jumped him yet?

  B: That’s not funny

  M: Ouch. That bad, huh

  I peeked over my shoulder at Eli and saw he was dutifully painting, like I should have been.

  B: It could be worse

  B: But I really don’t wanna know how much worse it could get

  M: We’re going out tonight

  Huh?

  B: Way to change the subject

  M: Nope. Still on topic

  M: Gonna get you laid and distracted

  I sighed and shook my head, even if Mac couldn’t see it. It had been about two months since I’d hooked up with anyone, which was a bit for me. Between buying the space for the bakery and getting together a business plan, I’d been busy. Then I met Eli and stopped thinking about sex altogether—then today happened.

  B: We can talk about it when I get home. Gotta get back to work

  M: Love youuuuuu. Keep your mitts to yourself, you bad man, you

  B: LY2

  I cringed and pocketed my phone, going back to the task at hand as if it were the most captivating thing I’d ever done.

  To escape the smell of drying paint, Eli and I went back to the bar we’d patronized a few weeks ago. Eli showed me his research on market trends and explained what was in and what was anticipated to be popular. It was well outside of my scope, but I trusted Eli and it all sounded lovely. He spoke with a confidence I only ever heard when he was in “work mode” or answering my many Star Wars questions.

  Eli finished explaining as our server dropped off two burger platters and a couple of bottles of beer. I dove into my fries, clearly having underestimated my need for food throughout the day, only stopping when Eli’s faint laughter reached my ears.

  “What? I’m starving.”

  “I’m not judging you. I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”

  “About what?” I asked before introducing more tasty fries to my mouth.

  “Ah, well, you’re pretty fit, but you eat a lot of food that doesn’t seem conducive with that lifestyle. Your cooking is healthy, but then you eat two plates of it, and you got extra fries today and—I’m sorry. I’m being rude as hell.”

  I’d been holding it in, but I cracked and burst into laughter, nearly choking in the process. The tips of Eli’s ears reddened while he downed half of his beer. “You’re not rude. You’re pretty blunt and direct, though I respect that. You say exactly what’s on your mind when you’re not thinking too much, even if it is a little funny sometimes. I looooove food. It’s probably my number one vice, far above anything else… well, except maybe sex, but even that’s cutting it close. I work out a lot and cook healthy meals to combat my weakness for junk and snacks.” More fries. More salty, golden, fried goodness to distract myself from the fact that I just brought up sex, and was starting to sweat.

  “I’ve only been inside of a gym once. I had no idea what I was doing and was convinced people were talking about me. I lasted about fifteen minutes before I had to leave, and I haven’t set foot in one since. It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.” Eli rolled his eyes and took a bite from his burger. “I don’t know why I haven’t gone back. That incident was about eight years ago.”

  “What do you want from it?”

  “Is that a serious question? Look at you. You look amazing. I don’t think I could ever get to be your size, but a bit of bulk would probably do wonders for my self-esteem.”

  There he went again with his unfiltered way of speaking. And did he really think I looked amazing? Best not to dwell on that comment. “If you want some pointers or a workout buddy, I’m sure we can figure out a time. That said, don’t think you’re lesser for not going. With all the running you do I bet you have way better endurance than me and plenty of lean muscle. Trust me when I say that you don’t need to be bigger to feel good about yourself.” Or to be desirable.

  “You’re probably right. Anyway, you said there was something you wanted to tell me?”

  I’d forgotten all about that. I explained how Mac had been giving me a hand and that we’d come up with a name a few days ago.

  “Eat Cake,” I said, motioning with my hands for emphasis. It appealed to the pervert in me while also being direct, not making people guess what we sold.

  Eli’s brow furrowed, and he chewed on his thumbnail. His deep-in-thought face was pretty cute, even if it did make me nervous. “I like it,” he finally said. “It’s catchy, snappy, bold. Have you given any thought to the appearance of the logo?”

  Did he not catch the obvious sexual innuendo with the name? Interesting. “Not yet. I wanted your opinion before I committed to hiring someone.”

  “Would you mind if I took a stab at it? You don’t have to use anything I design, but I have an idea I’d like to flesh out.”

  Of course I said yes. I didn’t know that Eli had graphic design skills. I’d assumed his job would be to generate ideas then pass them off to a different department to be drawn or rendered, or whatever. I’d jump at the chance to see something artist Eli created—especially something just for me.

  Seemingly pleased with my answer, Eli went back to work on his burger and asked me more questions about the bakery and color schemes. I was sad to see him go when we finished up, but I didn’t let it show when we parted.

  Mac wasn’t kidding when he’d said we were going out. By the time I got home Axel was sitting on the couch with our friend Blake—no doubt trying to flirt with her—and Maxim was going to meet us at the club. Mac had assembled the singles’ crew, and there would be no getting out of going tonight. I didn’t bother trying to fight Mac on why I didn’t need to go and instead showered and changed into a pair of dark-wash fitted jeans and a green-and-black tank. I’d assumed we were going to go to a gay club, since the idea was to get me laid. For being straight, Mac had no qualms about exclusively going to gay bars when we went out. He’d always managed to find women and lay on his charm. Blake and Maxim would have no problem with going to a gay club, but I wondered if Mac told Axel what he was signing up for. Knowing my best friend, he probably withheld that detail for his own amusement.

  Satisfied with my appearance, I moved back out to the living room and sat down next to Axel. His wavy black hair had recently been cut into a clean taper fade, making him even cuter than when he had his hair shagged out. He didn’t look quite as young with his hair shorter, but he still looked pretty damn young. He’d attributed his baby face to him being Mexican, and said that his dad also looked younger than he was, which was wild to me. Puberty had hit me harder than a freight train; I went from fifteen to thirty over a few months and have looked more or less the same ever since. I gained more muscle mass over the years, but that was about the only change.

  It was way too early to go out, so we piled into Mac’s bed and took turns playing two-player racing and fighting games until it was time to leave. Maxim, true to his word, was waiting outside when we arrived. A little tall
er than me with brown eyes and dark brown hair, Maxim was hot. We never clicked sexually, and were much better as friends.

  Blake and Mac walked up last with Mac’s arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist. They used to have a thing, but they were just friends now—sans benefits. Seeing them together was too much pretty blond in one place and was rather sickening anyway.

  Mac pulled his arm from Blake’s shoulders and led us inside, paying the cover for our whole group. The pounding music could be felt before it was heard as we entered the building and made our way downstairs to the dance floor. Stale air smelling of smoke and sweat thickened the closer we got to the music until we stepped into the throng of dancing bodies. Mac and Maxim went to go get some drinks while Axel looked at the crowd of mostly men—in various states of undress—with wide eyes.

  He stepped close to me and stood on his toes to speak into my ear. “Mac promised he’d be my wingman tonight—how the fuck am I supposed to get laid when there are no girls here?”

  I felt a little, just a little, bad for him. I sought out Blake, and she winked at me after waggling her manicured eyebrows at Axel. Yeah, he’d be all right—that didn’t mean I wouldn’t fuck with him a bit.

  “I don’t know, Axe, your new haircut is pretty damn cute. I could probably find you twenty guys who’d be interested.” I was teasing, but that didn’t make it any less true.

  “Bry,” he whined.

  “Relax. Mac won’t try to set you up with any guys. Stick with us and you likely won’t get hit on too much.”

  “I can live with a guy coming on to me,” he muttered.