Resistance

Resistance

L. M. Turner

Resistance Copyright © August 2010 by L. M. Turner All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. eISBN 978-1-60737-845-7 Editor: Judith David Cover Artist: Anne Cain Printed in the United States of America

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Prologue It‘s Frankie who sets the wheels in motion, although none of them would know it for a while to come. He calls Ryan early on a Friday evening and says, ―We headin‘ out tonight?‖ Ryan wasn‘t planning on going out. He‘s had a rough week, too much work and not enough sleep, and this is his first night off since his last night off, which was spent wasted in some nobody‘s bed. He needs the downtime. It‘s been a while, though. Almost a week. His protests only last as long as it takes for his dick to order him out the door. And just like that, with nothing more than Frankie‘s lazy, whiskey-rough drawl, Ryan‘s world and, everything he believes in, spins over and dumps him on his ass.

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Chapter One Ryan has a thing about one-night stands. They‘re easy, anonymous, and they do the job. The wide-eyed romantics can keep their relationship bullshit, their dates and one-month anniversaries, and their shared fucking potted plants. Ryan wants to get laid, not shoot himself in the head out of sheer, mind-numbing boredom. The best thing about one-offs? He can be himself. He‘s got no one to impress, nothing to worry about. Fast, slow, rough, gentle—whatever he feels like, and it‘s his. Walk away afterward and never think back and wonder if it was good for the other guy too. It‘s not that he‘s selfish. He‘s attentive and considerate, and he‘s never the first one to come. But at the end of the day he‘s getting off, any way he wants, and they can either take whatever his mood‘s aiming for or tell him to fuck off. There‘s always someone else in the next bar or an alley or crossing paths in the supermarket. Of all the cock he‘s had, he doesn‘t remember a single name. He wouldn‘t have it any other way. It‘s what he‘s expecting tonight, what he needs. A random hook-up, release some tension. Frankie takes him to a gay bar, of course. ―They’re full of straight women with limited options,‖ he often says, as if Ryan‘s not heard it a million times before. ―Shootin’ fish in a barrel.‖ The bar‘s heaving tonight—a two-for-one drinks offer coupled with the town‘s favorite camp DJ equals a dance floor full to the brim with enough leather and spandex to make Ryan‘s balls sweat in sympathy. ―Some of ‘em are actually

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lesbians, you know,‖ he says over his shoulder, finishing one of a million similar conversations they‘ve had over the years. ―It‘s not just fag hags.‖ Frankie snorts, because—for him?—lesbians are merely a fun challenge. ―Get the drinks in, son,‖ he says, rubbing his hands together. ―I gotta see what I‘m working with here.‖ Before Ryan can point out it‘s Frankie‘s turn to buy the first round, before he can even blink, Frankie‘s off, eyes peeled, flirty smirk firmly in place—every bit the horndog he pretends not to be in polite company. Ryan grabs two beers and leans back against the bar, the rim of his bottle playing at his bottom lip as he considers. He‘s in no mood to stretch this one out, not all that interested in finding the best-looking guy in the bar—too tired, too frustrated. He has standards, but tonight he‘s not aiming for the top of the list. Someone half-decent with a willing mouth and he‘ll be set. It‘s not long before he finds the guy he‘s going to take home. He‘s tall, kinda cute, blond, and slim. Dancing with no one in particular with sweat beaded on his tan forehead; his eyes are half-closed as if he‘s lost in the music, in the feeling of letting go. Ryan likes that about him. The type of guy who can kick back and go with it is the type of guy he wants on his dick tonight. He motions for Frankie to come get his beer, puts his own near-empty bottle on the bar, and wades into the crowd. The smile he gives the blond guy is enough, the lazy upturn of his lips, the lidding of his eyes. The guy smiles back, flashing teeth, putty in Ryan‘s hands—and he lets out a ragged breath Ryan feels in his own chest when he slides in close and places his hands on narrow hips. Ryan hates dancing, doesn‘t plan on spending much time getting this guy worked up. He figures he‘s in anyway, so a few rocks of his hips, hand roaming to grab a firm ass cheek, and his work‘s done. But then he sees him. While peering over Blond Guy‘s shoulder, searching out a convenient corner to seal the deal and get this guy to say yeah, let’s go, he sees him. Sees him.

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And it‘s over. The guy across the dance floor is tall—understatement of the year—and he‘s so built he looks as if he could take the tiny girl by his side and crush her with nothing but unconscious thought and a flex of his fingers. Dark hair, a messy travesty, and a grin flashing dimples and enough warmth to attract half the gazes in the room. He‘s dancing, or trying to, spinning and twirling the girl as though he thinks he‘s in a comedic ballroom competition. It‘s the worst thing Ryan‘s ever seen, but it‘s also the best, and he‘s mesmerized. ―Hey,‖ says a breathy voice in his ear, puffing moist air against his neck. ―You wanna go somewhere quiet?‖ Then the beautiful disaster across the room looks up, meets Ryan‘s eyes; his dazzling grin falls, his motions stalling, and it‘s as if the world‘s slipping away around him. Ryan can‘t look away. Yeah, you know how this goes. Come and get me. But the guy doesn‘t come. He breaks eye contact and smiles down at the girl, pulls her in, and tilts her back. She‘s laughing, dark hair spilling out behind her, hand seeking safety around the guy‘s massive arm, and Ryan can’t look away. ―Fuck,‖ he says, and he doesn‘t even know what he‘s cursing at. ―Yeah. That‘s the idea.‖ Ryan comes back to himself, to his half-hard cock pressed against a guy he‘s no longer interested in. He peels himself away and grimaces at the excited shine in the guy‘s eyes. ―Look,‖ he says, holding up his hand. ―I‘m just kicking back. Not looking for anything here.‖ It‘s the only way he can think of to let this guy down without saying, I would, you know, but that guy over there has my name written all over him. The guy scowls. ―Cock-tease,‖ he says, as if Ryan was halfway through giving him head before changing his mind.

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Ryan shrugs it off and walks away, back to the bar, intent on forming a plan. He‘s fucking that giant tonight, any which way. Frankie is waiting for him; another round bought. He holds out a bottle for Ryan to take and nods in the general direction of the dance floor. ―Seen anythin‘?‖ ―Yeah.‖ Ryan leans beside him, takes a swig, then points the neck of his bottle in the giant‘s direction. ―Him. The big guy.‖ ―Huh.‖ Frankie raises an eyebrow. ―Good night to wander off the beaten track.‖ It‘s true. Ryan goes for guys shorter than him, smaller, kinda delicate, and a little twinky. He likes the power of a small body sweating and moaning and begging beneath him. But… ―I dunno, man. There‘s something about him. And you know me.‖ ―Sure do,‖ says Frankie. ―You ain‘t restin‘ till you try it on. You think he‘s gonna go for it?‖ The guy‘s got the girl lifted up in his arms now, smiling into her face; he spins her around, makes her legs fly out behind her, and Ryan thinks he catches a hint of her delighted scream over the music. ―Yeah,‖ he says, and he doesn‘t elaborate. The guy doesn‘t even look gay, and he wouldn‘t be the only straight guy in the bar— Frankie, top of the list—but Ryan‘s not letting it faze him. ―What about you? Got your eye on someone?‖ ―Three of ‘em,‖ says Frankie, pointing in the opposite direction. Ryan turns to see, leans sideways against the bar, props up an elbow. ―The sorority sisters over there.‖ The trio of girls, all of them new to the land of legal, sit huddled around a table, grinning and whispering and staring stealthily at the world of gay before them. Tourists looking for a thrill of the controversial. Ryan snorts. ―Good luck with the chastity belts.‖ He squints, trying to get a closer look. ―Is that a promise ring?‖ ―Whatever,‖ says Frankie, discarding his empty bottle. ―I‘ll give you the details in the mornin‘.‖

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Ryan watches him leave, sips on his beer. A smirk dances on his lips when all three girls perk up as Frankie approaches their table, drawls something in no doubt his lowest, most gravel-ridden voice. Then Ryan freezes, breath caught in his throat, when a large wall of heat presses against his back. ―Sorry,‖ says a voice devoid of apology. ―Just trying to get to the bar.‖ Ryan knows who it is before he turns. He takes half a step back, not too much, enough to let the guy push close to the bar. ―No problem.‖ The guy, impossibly bigger up close, shoots him an absent smile. ―What‘s your name?‖ ―Jayden.‖ He has a deep, honeyed tone, a gentle rumble Ryan‘s sure he can turn into a rough growl of pleasure, and he feels a flash of irritation when Jayden looks away to shout his order at the overworked bartender. Ryan wants his eyes on him. ―Jayden. I‘m Ryan. Not seen you here before.‖ ―New in town,‖ he says, shifting to face Ryan, peering down at him with dark eyes. ―My friend Molly‘s showing me the sights.‖ Friend. Not girlfriend. ―Nice of her,‖ Ryan says, then someone jostles him from behind, shoves him forward, and it‘s the most movie-cliché thing in the world when he falls into Jayden, chest to chest. Jayden‘s massive, strong hands grab his waist to steady him, and his heart beats a warning against his ribs. ―Sorry,‖ he mutters, looking up, and Jayden‘s staring down at him with darkened brown eyes, brushing his bottom lip with his tongue before pulling it between his teeth. And Ryan thinks, fuck it, and says, ―How about you forget the drink and we go someplace else?‖ There‘s an eternal moment where Jayden does nothing but look at him and breathe, where Ryan‘s cock swells with anticipation, and he can feel hot, hot heat in the tiny space between them. But Jayden laughs, lets go of Ryan‘s waist. The spell‘s broken. ―Dude,‖ he says, stepping back, ―I‘m not that easy.‖

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A flash of embarrassment sparks in Ryan‘s belly—he‘s not used to rejection— but he pushes it aside. He needs to do a little work here, a little sweet-talking. He‘s sure, without a doubt, it‘ll be worth his time. ―Fair enough,‖ he says. ―Let me get those drinks for you.‖ Jayden doesn‘t protest, which Ryan kinda likes, and when he‘s got his beer and a froofy cocktail in hand, he gives Ryan a little smile and says, ―Thanks, man. So, uh. Guess I‘ll see you around.‖ Ryan thinks, hell no, and catches him by the hip before he can turn around and walk away. ―What kinda guy leaves a man standing all by himself?‖ ―The kinda guy who doesn‘t leave a lady standing alone in a gay—Oh…‖ he says, trailing off. The girl‘s dancing again, caught in a group of other girls, and she‘s clearly having a fantastic time. Ryan barely resists the grin of victory. ―Looks to me like she‘s doing just fine without you. Come on. Let‘s grab a table.‖ He doesn‘t wait for a response, picks up his beer and weaves through the room, passes Frankie—face pressed in too-young boobs—and finds an empty table in a near-deserted corner. Jayden joins him, looking for a moment as though he knows exactly what the fuck he‘s doing, before his face smoothes over to show passive pleasantry. Ryan quirks an eyebrow, a confused sort of satisfaction boiling in his gut. He takes a seat and kicks out the one next to him for Jayden to take. It‘s as though they come to some unspoken agreement to face each other rather than the table. Jayden hooks his foot up on the rung of Ryan‘s chair, right between Ryan‘s legs, and presses his other foot against the opposite chair leg. Ryan‘s enclosed, trapped between the wall and Jayden, knees brushing Jayden‘s thighs, the beer in his hand too warm to quench his heated thirst. ―So. Ryan.‖ Jayden‘s wearing this mischievous half smirk, eyes dancing, and for the first time, the notion rolls over Ryan that maybe he‘s the one being worked over here. ―What d‘you do for a living?‖

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Ryan doesn‘t do sharing. His hook-ups don‘t need to know a thing about him other than how his cock tastes and the noises he makes when he shoots. Regardless, his mouth works before his brain can catch up. ―I work at a strip club.‖ Jayden blinks. ―Female dancers,‖ Ryan adds hastily. ―I‘m security. I usually work weekends, but the bar‘s closed tonight after a busted pipe and—‖Fuck, shut up. ―Yeah. Night off. You?‖ Jayden shrugs. ―Taking some time out. Trying to figure out what I want with my life, you know?‖ ―You can afford to not work?‖ The question‘s out before Ryan can stop himself. He feels the flush on the back of his neck, gives himself a mental slap around the face with an order to pull his shit together. This is what he does. This is what he‘s good at. Hooking up. It‘s his other art. Fuck this guy and the way he‘s making Ryan‘s skin itch. ―I get by,‖ Jayden says, a guard up around his tone. He leans forward then, rests his forearm on the knee he‘s got propped up between Ryan‘s legs, and his face is right there, fuck, and Ryan counts moles and eyelashes before he even knows he‘s doing it. ―So I got a lot of free time on my hands right now. Tell me what‘s good to do around here.‖ It‘s on the tip of Ryan‘s tongue to say me, but that‘s too cheesy even for his current labored state of mind. ―Thought your friend was showing you around.‖ ―She is,‖ Jayden says with a fond grin, gaze drifting away from Ryan to search her out in the crowd. She doesn‘t look as though she‘s missing him at all. ―But it‘s all dress shops and ice-skating rinks, and I‘m starting to feel like the token stereotype.‖ There‘s no anger or irritation in his tone, just stated fact. ―Well,‖ says Ryan, ―what do you like to do?‖ This is usually when the guy turns to Ryan with an adopted leer and says eat ass or suck cock or a combination thereof. But Jayden doesn‘t. Jayden contemplates.

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―I dunno, man. Any good galleries around here?‖ Ryan stares. ―Are you for real?‖ Because, really, it‘s just too much. ―Yeah,‖ says Jayden, drawing the word out as though he‘s not sure if Ryan‘s normal. When Ryan gives no response other than to shake his head and take a sip of beer, Jayden quirks a half smile and asks, ―You think that‘s weird?‖ ―No, it‘s just…‖ It‘s on the tip of his tongue; something about this guy is pulling on his honesty. What’s the harm? They‘ve already exchanged names. Ryan destroyed the anonymity without thinking, made this something personal. In for a penny… ―I‘m an artist—or, you know. It‘s my hobby. I paint.‖ Jayden flashes straight white teeth with his grin. ―That‘s awesome, man. And it means you‘ll know all the best galleries. Wanna be my new tour guide?‖ he asks, eyes twinkling. Ryan leans away from him, swallows against the uncomfortable flutter in his chest. He‘s not looking for a friend, and this is heading into dangerous ground. Jayden must read it in his face, because his smile vanishes, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. He lowers his voice, makes it less playful, and he says, ―Look, man, I know why you‘re in this place tonight. Want me to leave you alone so you can go do your thing?‖ It‘s the best plan, Ryan thinks, because he really needs to get laid, and he‘s not entirely convinced Jayden‘s a sure thing. But. There‘s a big but. He can‘t put his finger on why, has no idea why, he doesn‘t get up and leave. Every instinct bellows at him to walk away, to cut his losses. Jayden‘s pretty much the hottest guy he‘s ever seen, sure, but he‘s not the only guy in the bar and Ryan‘s standards aren‘t sky-high. If he walks away now, he‘ll still have time to find someone sober enough to fuck, maybe two. But Jayden‘s got dark brown eyes, a body molded from a Greek god, and the kind of voice that makes Ryan‘s skin tingle. This guy has something, and Ryan‘s not giving up on it yet. ―No, it‘s cool. I like it right here.‖ Jayden blinks. ―You‘d sit here talking to me all night, even if you knew you weren‘t gonna get anything out of it?‖

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―Um.‖ It‘s warmer all of a sudden, and Ryan‘s throat‘s burning. ―Yes? I mean, I‘d kinda hope you‘d let me ride you by the end of the night, or at least blow you, but whatever. It‘s not like I‘m dying tonight.‖ And Jayden says, ―Fuck,‖ and then, ―Okay, let‘s go.‖ Just like that. It takes Ryan a second or two to realize what the fuck just happened. He‘s been played, he thinks—and he couldn‘t care less. There‘s a snapshot of mild panic when Jayden goes to find his girl to let her know he‘s taking off, and Ryan‘s not sure if he‘s coming back. He gets just enough time to tell Frankie what‘s what, when Jayden‘s there again, closing a hand around his wrist, tugging him away and out into the night. They pause in the street, standing close. ―I‘ve only had one,‖ Jayden says, ―so I can drive. But—‖ Ryan pulls him in the direction of the parking lot. ―My place. Roommate‘s out for the night.‖ They find Jayden‘s car in the darkness, and half a second later Jayden‘s got him pressed against the passenger door, leaning in, and Ryan doesn‘t kiss on the mouth—it‘s very Pretty Woman of him, and he knows it, he really does, but he‘s never allowed it, never wanted it from his random one-offs. But he forgets to tell Jayden about this rule, and then Jayden‘s right there, in his face, and Ryan‘s allowed a moment to say no, but he doesn‘t. He closes the distance himself and takes Jayden‘s tongue into his mouth. It‘s been so long since Ryan‘s been kissed that he wonders, fleetingly, why the fuck he‘s always refused it. But he knows in the back of his lust-addled mind that this is Jayden‘s doing, this oh fuck yes, that he wouldn‘t get it like this from Blond Guy or the accountant last week or whoever‘s going to be in his bed tomorrow night. It‘s rough and nasty, teeth and tongue and bites and groans. Jayden pushes up Ryan‘s shirt to dig his fingers into his hips while Ryan‘s reaching down to palm the—fuck—huge bulge in Jayden‘s jeans. When Jayden breaks away, panting against Ryan‘s cheek, Ryan releases a quiet rumble of protest. Then Jayden reaches

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down to cover Ryan‘s hand with his own and pushes, grinds up, a broken, bitten-off moan in Ryan‘s ear. And then cold when Jayden pulls his whole body away. ―Christ,‖ says Ryan, dick straining against his zipper, Jayden‘s gaze on him so hot he feels it all the way through his skin. He turns and opens the door, listens to Jayden jog around to the opposite side with the jangling of keys, marvels at his own restraint when he doesn‘t touch Jayden at all the whole way home. They don‘t speak beyond Ryan‘s giving directions, don‘t even look, but the electricity crackling the air between them is loud enough, and Ryan‘s never been so pleased to see his front door. ―Nice neighborhood,‖ Jayden says on the walk to the front door, because now is obviously the time for small talk. ―Little-old-lady street.‖ ―Yeah.‖ Ryan tries to find the right key, fucks around with the lock, and Jayden comes up behind him, presses close, reaches around to dip his hand right under Ryan‘s dick and push up against his balls. ―Which is why you shouldn‘t be doing that—fuck—out in the open.‖ ―Can‘t help it,‖ Jayden murmurs, swiping his tongue down the side of Ryan‘s neck. ―Things I‘mma do to you…‖ Thank God for doors that don‘t want to cockblock. The key turns, the door opens, and Ryan stumbles over the threshold with Jayden coming in behind him. ―You, uh…‖ he tries to say, but Jayden‘s got his hand beneath Ryan‘s chin, tipping his head up to have more neck to lick and bite, fingers playing at his zipper in a way that drives Ryan crazy with the fucking teasing. ―You want a drink or something?‖ ―Fuck, Ryan, just show me the damn bed.‖ And, okay, he can‘t really argue with that. ―You gotta…gotta get off me, then. I can‘t walk and fuck at the same time.‖ ―Reckon you could,‖ Jayden says, but he leaves Ryan alone after that, gets about five steps into the house before Ryan grabs him and throws him against the

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nearest wall. A painting falls off and lands beside them with a thunk, and they both ignore it in favor of tearing the shit out of each other‘s clothes, kissing so deeply Ryan thinks he‘s going to taste it for a week. Buttons pop and scatter like the cliché he‘s let himself be tonight, and pretty soon they‘re both shirtless and Jayden‘s jeans are gaping and Ryan stands, breathing, taking it all in. Ryan wants to paint him. Half his brain wants to forget all this getting-laid business and spread Jayden out so he can paint him. But Jayden‘s jeans are open, no boxers beneath, and there‘s just enough of a hint of hair and skin for Ryan to tell that side of his brain to shut the fuck up. Now is not the time for fucking art. ―Trying to make me nervous here?‖ Jayden asks, pressed back against the wall. Ryan meets his eyes, wishes he hadn‘t. God. ―Just looking. Bet you get this problem a lot.‖ ―It‘s not usually a problem when the guy doesn’t look like you.‖ ―What?‖ ―Jesus,‖ says Jayden. ―You don‘t even know.‖ Then he pulls Ryan in, their mouths crash together, and yeah, okay, he‘s got no idea what Jayden meant, but what-the-fuck-ever. They don‘t make it to the bedroom. The floor right here‘s close enough, and soon they‘re down, jeans gone, and Ryan‘s got acres of hard, hot body pressed against him. Their hips fit together so snugly, Jayden‘s enormous wet cock slipping across Ryan‘s skin. ―Let me blow you,‖ Ryan says against Jayden‘s shoulder, scraping with his teeth as Jayden gets hold of his thigh and pulls it up to press closer into him. ―Wanna taste your cock, Jayden, come on.‖ He waits just long enough for Jayden to whisper, ―Okay,‖ before he tries to wriggle out from beneath him, intent on his goal. But Jayden says, ―No, like this,‖ and he goes still as Jayden pushes up his body until he‘s kneeling right over his face.

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Fuck. He‘s got that massive cock hanging over his mouth, a bead of precum seeping out the head, Jayden looking down at him as if he‘s not too sure, and Ryan can do nothing but nod, open his mouth. He feels Jayden‘s groan of relief all the way down to his toes in the instant before Jayden lowers and slides his cock over his tongue. There‘s so much of it, and Jayden‘s hesitant at first, gentle little thrusts as if he thinks he‘s going to break Ryan. But Ryan‘s having none of that. He opens his throat, digs his nails into Jayden‘s ass, shoves until Jayden slides all the way in. ―Shit, Ryan—‖ Jayden chokes out the words as Ryan swallows around his cock. He braces his hands on the floor above Ryan‘s head; when Ryan works a hand around to tug on his balls, he lets out a stifled whimper and starts fucking Ryan‘s mouth in long, sharp thrusts. ―Fuck, so good, so good. God, fucking knew you would be. Jesus, I can‘t—‖ So Jayden‘s a talker, but Ryan doesn‘t really fucking care when he‘s got a mouthful of a cock like this, the taste of it, the smell and the pressure and the heat. He forces his eyes to stay open even when they water, wants to keep looking at Jayden‘s face, at the abandon flitting across his features when he really lets go and starts fucking in earnest past Ryan‘s lips, down his throat, as if he knows he‘s got no reason to worry now, that Ryan can handle it. ―Fuck, so close,‖ Jayden pants, embarrassment in his tone. Ryan wants him to know it‘s okay—it‘s good—does his best to show it with harder sucks, working his tongue, opening his throat to take it all. Jayden‘s hips snap forward, sliding his cock all the way in and down and full; he holds like that for a long, long moment. Breathing, exhaling, he says, ―I‘m gonna come on your face,‖ just like that, no question to it. Ryan‘s nodding even before Jayden pulls out, keeps his mouth spread open in case Jayden wants to see it on his tongue, in his throat, splashed across his lips. A groan tears from his chest when Jayden grips his hair and yanks his head back, exposes his throat, a pain in his scalp at war with the throbbing in his cock. Then

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Jayden tugs on himself, quick and frenzied jerks of his fist as he leans right over Ryan‘s face, angles his dick, chokes back a word, and shoots. There‘s a lot of it, on Ryan‘s cheek and his lips, his hair and eyelashes. He stretches out his tongue to get a taste, and Jayden presses the head of his dick right down on it, rubs against Ryan‘s taste buds, spunk spilling out and over and down Ryan‘s chin. Jayden keeps fisting even when there‘s nothing left to shoot, milks his orgasm for all it‘s worth, smears his dick across Ryan‘s mouth, his lips, a wet line across Ryan‘s cheek as he breathes and gasps and rocks his hips. Ryan grabs it, gets that oversensitive cock in his hand, and sucks it into his mouth, seizes Jayden‘s ass and pulls until he‘s got a throat full of softening cock, keeps on licking and sucking over Jayden‘s hisses and moans, takes it down like he‘s hungry for it, still hungry for it, even if it has nothing else to give. Jayden gives a low, breathy laugh, pushes into Ryan‘s mouth as if he‘s fascinated, like he can‘t figure out why it still feels so good, and murmurs, ―I‘ve never seen anyone worship cock so much.‖ Ryan presses on Jayden‘s ass, moans around his cock, an invitation to keep going, to get hard again, to fuck his mouth some more. But Jayden says, ―No,‖ and pulls out and away, shimmies down Ryan‘s body before he can complain. He licks the line of cum he smeared on Ryan‘s cheek and meets his mouth, bites and licks at Ryan‘s lower lip as he works his hands down his hips, pushes Ryan‘s thighs apart, his weight falling between them. ―Want you to sit on my face,‖ Jayden says between kisses, finding Ryan‘s balls and squeezing. ―Gonna make it so good, so wet and open for me. Gonna make you so close, right on the edge. Then I want you to ride me. Can you do that, Ryan? Fuck,‖ he says, forcing his tongue into Ryan‘s mouth, licking away his own cum, pulling back and to the side to breathe into his ear. ―Gonna fuck you so hard you‘ll be feeling me for years. Never let you forget me.‖ ―Jesus,‖ says Ryan. ―Yeah. Yeah, okay. Come on.‖

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It‘s a bit of a tangle, negotiating their bodies and limbs without wanting to give up the touching and licking and biting. Eventually Jayden makes it onto his back, spreading straight out like he‘s a fucking rug; then he grabs Ryan by the thighs and hefts him up and over until Ryan‘s seated over his face—right over his fucking face—and then he starts licking. Ryan doesn‘t know what to say, only that he really needs to fucking talk, his mouth working to form words that come as nothing but groans. He tips forward slightly, Jayden‘s chin digging into his balls so good, reaches out to tease the head of Jayden‘s stiffening cock with his fingertips. Jayden‘s got him spread so wide, his ass cheeks pulled taut, his hole exposed and open and so fucking greedy for Jayden‘s tongue, his teeth, anything he wants to give. Jayden really was born to eat ass. It‘s one of the best discoveries Ryan‘s ever made. It goes on for a while, Ryan rocking his hips, pushing his ass down onto Jayden‘s face until he‘s sure Jayden‘s gonna break away and beg for air. But he doesn‘t. Instead, he works harder, gets louder, pushing his thick tongue in so deep. He doesn‘t use his fingers, and Ryan knows it‘s deliberate. He wants to drag Ryan to the edge with nothing but his tongue, and it‘s working, God, it‘s working. Pretty soon Ryan‘s doing a stilted sort of bounce, grinding down onto that tongue, filthy moans spilling over his lips as he feels it building, the tension in his spine and gut, and knows he‘s gonna come untouched, completely untouched, if this doesn‘t stop now. He pulls away with abruptness, leans forward onto his hands and knees, ignores Jayden‘s whine of disappointment, and pants down on Jayden‘s cock, which twitches up to meet his mouth. And, really, how the hell could Ryan not take it back again into his mouth? ―No!‖ says Jayden, when Ryan dips his head and takes that glorious cock back in his mouth. ―No. Jesus, next time I come, it‘s gonna be in your ass.‖ He shoves

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Ryan away, moves like a fucking ninja until he‘s leaning back over him, mouth full of ass crashing down on his, and Ryan doesn‘t care at all. The kiss lasts far longer than Ryan was expecting, but Jayden seems to be enjoying himself and happy taking his time. Ryan goes with it for as long as he can stand before the throbbing in his cock becomes too much to bear and he breaks the kiss with a gasp, says, ―Dude, come on.‖ ―Sorry,‖ says Jayden, stroking a hand up Ryan‘s side. ―Just needed a minute.‖ The next kiss is surprisingly, breathtakingly tender; Jayden‘s fingers on his cheek and his tongue are light and teasing. Ryan manages about ten seconds of it before the panic sets in, the realization that he‘s fucking enjoying it. Then he‘s wrenching his mouth away with more of a struggle than he‘d like to analyze and gazing up into Jayden‘s deep, open eyes. ―Um,‖ Ryan says into the abrupt silence of the room. ―You got something in your jeans here? Because I really need you to fuck me now, and I‘m not getting up.‖ Jayden smiles, still stroking, stroking. ―You got a problem with a little affection, Ryan?‖ Ryan swallows. ―You fucking me or not?‖ With a sigh, Jayden moves away, finds his jeans, and produces a condom. ―No lube.‖ ―Fuck the lube,‖ says Ryan, reaching for him. ―Spit on it.‖ And with a gleam in his eye and raw intensity on his face, Jayden proceeds to fuck Ryan‘s brains out.

*** ―So…‖ says Ryan, staring up at the ceiling. Jayden‘s warm and spent beside him, taking deep, satisfied breaths. And Ryan does what he always does: makes the guy think he wants to leave, when really Ryan‘s the one shoving him out of the door. It doesn‘t matter that it‘s Jayden. It doesn‘t. ―I suppose you wanna head out now.‖

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―Nope. I‘m staying here tonight.‖ ―What?‖ Ryan sits up, exposed in his nudity, as if his nudity is all of a sudden an issue. ―Jayden, no. I have this rule—‖ ―No sleepovers? Yeah, I figured. Thing is,‖ Jayden drawls, reaching up to trace a shiver down Ryan‘s spine, ―I‘ve decided I‘m not paying any attention. Where‘s your bedroom?‖ He hops to his feet and heads over to investigate the doors leading off the room. Ryan stares after him, somewhat dazed. ―You can‘t just invite yourself to stay in a stranger‘s house.‖ ―Dude, I had my tongue in your ass. You‘re way past being a stranger.‖ He opens a door, pokes his head through. ―Oops,‖ he says, pulling the door shut again, ―wrong room. There‘s too much pink, and you‘re not that gay. This is a girl‘s room. Your roommate‘s a girl?‖ ―Yeah.‖ ―Is she gay?‖ ―Uh. No. She‘s straight. Why?‖ ―Just wondering,‖ Jayden says breezily, heading to the next door. ―You know, prying into your personal life. Oh, this is the one. Big bed. Good.‖ ―Jayden, I‘m serious here. This isn‘t what I do.‖ ―I know. You‘re all about random one-offs.‖ He disappears into Ryan‘s bedroom, and with a mild prickle of fear, as if maybe he‘s slowly suffocating, Ryan gets up and follows him. ―I get it, dude,‖ Jayden adds. ―No need to keep going on about it.‖ ―I‘m not… I haven‘t—‖Deep breath, Ryan. ―Okay, you know what this is. I guess that‘s the awkward part out of the way.‖ ―Guess it is.‖ ―So why the hell are you getting in my bed?‖

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―Uh, to sleep?‖ says Jayden, flopping onto his back on Ryan‘s mattress. ―You do that sometimes, right? It‘s really awesome. You should come try it.‖ ―Jayden—‖ ―Oh my God, Ryan, I‘m just staying the night. I‘m not proposing marriage. Will you get in the fucking bed before I drag you in it myself?‖ Ryan hovers by the door, mind at war with itself. He feels the beginnings of a headache and sighs. ―You better be gone before I wake up.‖ ―You‘re so romantic.‖ ―Shut up,‖ says Ryan, climbing onto the bed. He doesn‘t get too close, wonders how he‘s going to get the covers out from beneath Jayden without manhandling him. ―You shut up.‖ Jayden stretches out an arm. ―And come here.‖ Ryan stares at him with the bizarre feeling that the walls are closing in. ―You want to snuggle?‖ ―I don‘t know if you missed it, dude, but we just had mind-blowing sex. Of course I want to snuggle. I want to stay in the moment.‖ ―The moment passed.‖ ―You‘re so grouchy.‖ There‘s a pout. There‘s definitely a pout. ―Let me cuddle it away.‖ Ryan groans, pinches the bridge of his nose. ―I can‘t believe this is happening to me.‖ ―I know, right? Who knew when you left this house today you‘d end up meeting the incredible Jayden Cobain? I‘d be in shock too.‖ And god-fucking-dammit, Ryan can‘t help but smile. ―There it is,‖ Jayden adds, tone gentle, face soft. ―Now are you gonna quit bitching and come and give me some love? I‘m feeling used here.‖ ―That‘s because I did use you,‖ says Ryan, and then, ―Is your name really Cobain?‖ ―Yes. It‘s an awesome name. Maybe when we get married, I‘ll let you have it.‖

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―Oh God.‖ ―I‘m kidding. Jesus. Just lie down, all right? I‘d like to actually get some sleep tonight.‖ ―It‘s just…all this.‖ The words are painful. Actually saying this shit gives Ryan a stomachache, but there‘s something within him that makes explanation necessary, a tiny corner of his subconscious not wanting Jayden to think he‘s the fault. ―Staying over, postsex conversation, snuggling. It‘s…it‘s relationship stuff.‖ ―Don‘t say the R word,‖ Jayden says, a mock-serious look on his face. ―You might break out in hives.‖ ―I‘m trying to be serious here.‖ Jayden sighs. ―I‘m not asking for a relationship, all right? I‘m not asking for anything except sleep. So please, stop dying inside and just lie the fuck down.‖ Ryan lies, so slowly and hesitantly he‘s surprised dawn‘s not broken by the time he settles his head on Jayden‘s shoulder. ―Christ,‖ says Jayden, not moving to touch him or pull him close or anything else likely to make Ryan rocket out the room. ―If I‘d known you were so high maintenance…‖ ―I’m high maintenance? You‘re the one who—‖ ―Shut the fuck up, for the love of God. I‘m staying. Get over it.‖ Jayden pauses, then adds, ―And if you feel you need to get me out of the house as early as possible tomorrow, I won‘t object to a wake-up blowjob. You know, if you must.‖ ―Right. I‘ll bear that in mind.‖ ―You can unclench now.‖ ―What?‖ ―You‘re like a lump of steel. Cold and hard and totally not honoring proper snuggling etiquette.‖ ―You are the worst hook-up ever.‖ ―Epic lies.‖

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Yeah, thinks Ryan, and if several minutes later he gives in and presses closer, relaxing into Jayden‘s hold—then, well, no one needs to know about it. It‘s not as though he‘s ever going to see Jayden again.

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Chapter Two Ryan‘s balls-deep in a twink when his phone beeps. He looks down at the guy‘s arched back, watches the bead of sweat roll down his spine, presses in deep, and tries to decide if he‘s so close he‘s got no way of stopping now. He‘s not. ―Sorry,‖ he mumbles, leaning over the guy to reach for his phone on the nightstand. The movement forces his dick farther into this guy‘s tight ass, and he hisses, appreciates the guy‘s moan. ―Might be important.‖ It‘s a text, and the screen says it‘s from Jayden. Which, okay, three very important points here: (1) Ryan didn‘t give Jayden his number; (2) Ryan definitely did not punch Jayden‘s number into his phone; and (3) Ryan doesn‘t need to rack his brain trying to remember who Jayden is. Blinking at the phone as though it‘s an alien come to suck out his soul, he presses the button to read.

FROM: Jayden What r u doing? Contrary to Ryan‘s mild fear, Jayden was gone when he woke up that morning. Ryan felt Jayden‘s presence as nothing but a cooling spot on the patch of bed he was half lying on, and if he felt a twinge of disappointment, it was gone before he could consider it. That was a week ago, and Ryan remembers every goddamn thing about him.

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His dick twitches in the guy‘s ass, and the guy pushes back on it in impatience, words spilling out on a whimper. ―Come on, man…‖ And Ryan notes with vague annoyance just how on the edge this guy is when he himself will need at least another ten minutes.

TO: Jayden Having sex He drops the phone on the bed and takes slender hips in his hands, pulls on them as he thrusts hard, working up a rhythm likely to push himself over. ―Touch yourself,‖ he whispers, mind going entirely blank when he thinks to say the guy‘s name. It comforts him. This is normal—anonymous fucking with no recollection of names or faces. The Jayden thing wasn‘t normal, and Ryan‘s kind of glad to see the back of it. Except Jayden, the fucker, has his number, and he‘s using it. Still keeping up a rhythm, desperate now to just come and get it over with, Ryan grabs his phone and reads.

FROM: Jayden Better than me? ;) I’m reading your pointless texts while fucking a guy who can’t make me come, and with you, I couldn’t’ve said what day of the week it was. The hell do you think? But he doesn‘t say it. And he doesn‘t send anything.

*** ―Doesn‘t he care about what you do for a living?‖ Ryan asks Olivia, reclining on her bed as he flicks through the latest Victoria‘s Secret catalog. He earmarks a tasteful red lace ensemble for her to look at later.

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She unhooks her bra, throws it on a chair, stands before him in a tiny pair of panties, and laughs. ―I met him at work. Be kinda hypocritical of him, don‘t you think?‖ ―There‘s your warning sign.‖ Rolling her eyes, she turns and grabs the new bag of lingerie she brought home with her that afternoon. ―Just because he went to a lap-dancing club, it doesn‘t make him a creep.‖ ―You told me he was sleazy.‖ ―He was,‖ she says quietly, something heavier in her tone. ―What do you think of this one?‖ She holds up a black silk bra with diamanté accents, a thong to match it in her other hand. ―Try it on.‖ He flips the catalog shut, watches her shimmy out of her panties. ―Tan line,‖ he says absently. ―Booked in for a spray on Monday.‖ She‘s naked then, like she is ten times a day, completely at ease. ―Do you think I‘m getting fat?‖ Ryan groans. ―Don‘t start this again.‖ She sticks her tongue out, tugs on the underwear. ―And what do you mean, ‗he was‘?‖ ―Well,‖ she says, fiddling with the bra straps, ―he was just your typical guy at a lap-dancing club. Took his friend there for some cheering up or some shit—I don‘t know—and he had that whole ‗hey, baby‘ thing going on, filthy grin, you know? Talking ass and tits and rating us all out of ten.‖ ―And you went out with this guy.‖ ―Shut up,‖ she says without heat. Then she sighs. ―I‘ve been out with him, what, three, four times? And nothing.‖ ―He‘s not giving it up?‖ ―He‘s not giving anything up. Not even a kiss.‖

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―Fuck,‖ says Ryan, rolling off the bed to help her fuck around with the straps to stop her boobs looking so lopsided. ―That‘s weird.‖ She bites her bottom lip, waits patiently for him to stop shoving her boobs around. ―It is, isn‘t it? I mean.‖ She steps away to check herself out in the mirror. ―What‘s wrong with me? Am I not attractive anymore?‖ ―No,‖ says Ryan. ―You‘re totally gross. Too much boob and pussy, not enough cock.‖ ―Asshole.‖ ―Come on, you‘re gorgeous. There‘s a reason you get the most requests at work.‖ Her eyes, washed through with worry, meet his in the mirror. ―Do you think that‘s it? Maybe he‘s freaked out by what I do.‖ ―Maybe,‖ says Ryan, shrugging. ―But it‘s not like you‘re sleeping with those guys. Have you tried talking to him?‖ She snorts. ―And make myself sound like a slut?‖ ―I don‘t think it‘s slutty to ask why a guy who‘s interested in you won‘t even go to first base. You‘re in a relationship with him, for fuck‘s sake.‖ He grimaces at the thought. ―Maybe he doesn‘t see it that way,‖ she murmurs, staring at herself. Then she shakes it off, rolls her shoulders, holds her head up. ―Whatever. No point worrying about it now. We‘re gonna be late for Frankie‘s gig, baby. You ready?‖ ―Yeah.‖ He checks his hair in the mirror, smoothes his shirt. ―You‘re going with that one for work tomorrow, then?‖ ―Think so,‖ she says, running her fingers over the diamanté on her bra. ―You like?‖ He walks over to her, tilts her chin in his direction, presses a soft kiss to her lips. ―You look amazing,‖ he says, touching their foreheads together. ―Like always.‖

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She smiles when he pulls away, the sparkle back in her eyes. ―Thanks.‖ She slips the ensemble off, reaches for a fuss-free wraparound dress hanging on the closet door. ―I gotta work my shit tomorrow if we wanna afford that new TV.‖ ―It can wait.‖ ―Like hell it can. I‘m not watching the new season of American Idol on that pansy-ass thing we‘ve got.‖ He laughs. ―The ass, then,‖ he says. ―Work the ass. The guys go crazy for it.‖ ―I love it when you give me career advice.‖

*** Frankie looks like hell. His hair, an unwashed muddy blond, hangs in sweaty clumps by his face; his jeans and shirt have more holes than material; the scratched and dented guitar in his hands blends perfectly with the splintered floorboards of the old stage on which he stands; and his voice is a croaky growl wrapped around words of whiskey and women and Texas. It‘s electrifying, and Ryan taps out the rhythm with his foot as he watches. He grins at Tony, the drummer, takes another swig of beer, and seeks out Olivia. The bar‘s packed; its faded, depressed decor isn‘t a deterrent to the crowds, no matter how much it tries, and Ryan can see little beyond the heads in front of him. He and Olivia got here early to ensure they commandeered what Ryan considers to be the best spot: a stool at the bar, a good view of the stage up ahead, close enough to the door to feel a soothing wave of breeze on his overheated skin every time it opens. He can‘t find Olivia anywhere; no doubt she spotted some of her rock-chick friends and he won‘t have much hope of seeing her until the morning. It doesn‘t bother him. He‘s happy where he is, enjoying the rumble of Frankie‘s voice; the beer‘s cold and the stool‘s comfortable, and he smiles, closes his eyes, relaxes. ―Fancy seeing you here,‖ says a voice in his ear. He startles and opens his eyes, looks up and up some more into Jayden‘s smiling face. Instant memory fills his head: Jayden‘s hands, his mouth, the taste of

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his skin, and the sound he makes when he slides deep into Ryan‘s body. Ryan swallows. ―What are you doing here?‖ Jayden uses the neck of his beer bottle to point at the stage. ―Heard the band was good.‖ ―That‘s all?‖ Jayden rolls his eyes. ―Get over yourself. I‘m not stalking you.‖ ―Right,‖ says Ryan, even as embarrassment washes over him. ―You on your own?‖ ―Why?‖ Jayden‘s eyes twinkle in the low light, glowing with mischief or lust or something else entirely. ―Does it matter?‖ ―No,‖ says Ryan, far too quickly. Jayden smiles at him, a private smile, and Ryan knows he‘s being mocked. But before he can express his indignation, Jayden says, ―Buy you a drink?‖ ―Got one.‖ ―Fair enough.‖ Jayden claps him on the shoulder—a friendly gesture, no hint of their previous intimacy. ―Have fun.‖ Then he starts to walk away. ―That‘s it?‖ says Ryan. Jayden turns, humor in his eyes. ―I‘m not here for you.‖ ―But…the texts.‖ ―Just keeping things friendly,‖ Jayden says with a shrug. ―Relax, dude. You‘ve got nothing to worry about here. Unless…‖ He smirks. Ryan clears his throat, adjusts his weight on the stool. ―Unless what?‖ After a moment of contemplation, Jayden says, ―Nothing,‖ and gazes out at the crowd. Then the bastard undoes the top button of his shirt, reveals some of that beautiful, tan skin. ―It‘s hot in here tonight.‖ He looks back at Ryan. ―Right?‖ ―Fuck off.‖ Ryan‘s not an idiot. Jayden might have the ability to drive him crazy with nothing but a smirk and a flash of skin, but he‘s got his principles. And his rules.

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―You think?‖ Jayden saunters over to him, slides in close, dips his head down to murmur into Ryan‘s ear. ―You‘re really gonna say no to me? Who else here can make you feel the way I did last week?‖ It‘s a valid point. His conquests in the past week have been nothing more than a futile search for the incredible pleasure he felt with Jayden. He heard something once—that sexual ecstasy isn‘t all to do with skill. A lot of it is down to compatibility, a connection, and without those as a basic foundation, the most you can hope for is a decent orgasm—no fireworks, no explosions. Ryan knows, because he can admit to being a slut, and he‘s had his world entirely rocked a grand total of once. By the guy currently invading his space, causing his heart to trip. ―I don‘t do repeats,‖ he says, but even he can hear the lack of conviction in his voice. Jayden leans back, a grin lighting his face. ―All right,‖ he says. ―I‘ll leave you to it.‖ Ryan watches him walk away, his mind empty, his fingers tight around his bottle. It‘s impossible to lose Jayden in the crowd; his height keeps him visible above the heads of everyone else, and Ryan has to focus on not watching his every move. He turns his attention back to Frankie, to the loving thrum of acoustic chords as Frankie croons about missed opportunities, too many regrets. It never fails to surprise him, how talented Frankie is—he‘s known for years, watched him play every weekend at bars and at his home and in the back alley of the club, beat-up guitar on his lap as he entertains them all and brings them down after a long evening at work. Frankie winks at him, sings, ―…it hurts and I’m stumbling but I want you, baby, I need you…‖ Has to be one of Tony‘s lyrics, Ryan thinks, because Frankie‘s not prone to sentimentality and heartfelt declarations, but it strikes a chord, a pull in his gut,

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and he seeks out Jayden without meaning to—finds him at the far end, pool cue in hand, laughing at something a pretty blond guy said. Ryan drains the last of his bottle and gets up, wades through the crowd, bumps into Olivia, and looks down into her wide, wild eyes. ―Hey! Baby! Whatcha doing?‖ ―Going to play some pool,‖ he says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. ―You good?‖ But she‘s already waving him off, tripping a path through a group of guys who track her movement with hunger in their eyes. He stares at them, waits until she‘s in the clear and in the safety of her friends, heading toward the girls‘ bathroom. Then he continues on his way, thirsty again already, and reaches the pool table just as Jayden bends over in front of him, lines up his shot—and Ryan places his hands on Jayden‘s hips, leans down, and mutters into his ear, ―I‘m playing the winner.‖ The distraction does nothing to put off Jayden—he pockets the balls, twists his head to smirk at Ryan, stands straight so their chests brush together. ―Can‘t keep away, huh?‖ Ryan takes a step back. ―Just looking for a good game.‖ ―You‘ll be waiting a long time. Chris and me here have a thing going on.‖ The message is clear: it’s too late. Ryan doesn‘t let it faze him, turns to size up this Chris guy. He‘s hot, slim and pale, with startling blue eyes, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. As he chalks up his cue, giving Ryan an appraising look, he says, ―We‘re playing best of three.‖ ―Oh yeah?‖ Ryan says, just as Jayden brushes past him, face-to-face and chests gliding together. ―What‘s the prize?‖ Chris‘s smirk says it all, and Ryan swallows, keeps his expression blank. ―Do you two know each other?‖ He tries to keep his voice neutral.

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They share a look, something heated and personal, and Ryan feels left out, pushed aside. He‘s walked in on something here, something that really shouldn‘t bother him. But it does. For some unknown fucking reason, it does. ―We‘ve met,‖ Jayden says, leaning his hip against the pool table. Chris catches his eye, and the smirk couldn‘t be any more irritating if it tried. ―Once or twice,‖ Chris says. ―Well,‖ says Ryan, raising an eyebrow at Jayden, ―you move fast. You‘ve only been here a couple weeks.‖ ―I said I‘m new in town. I didn‘t say how long I‘ve been here.‖ He pushes himself upright and turns to watch Chris take his shot. ―You don‘t know a thing about me,‖ he adds, and it sounds like an accusation. Ryan clears his throat. ―Don‘t plan to.‖ Jayden smiles at that, as if he finds it funny, then rounds the table. Ryan doesn‘t miss the way he runs his palm down Chris‘s waist as he passes him, the way they catch each other‘s eyes and hold on. His skin itches, and he‘s so thirsty. ―My round,‖ he says. ―Same again?‖ He doesn‘t wait for an answer; he heads back to the bar before he can say something he‘ll regret later, orders a beer for himself, and perches on a stool, drinks deep. He‘s there barely a minute before Jayden appears in front of him, skin flushed, eyes dark. ―Something wrong?‖ Ryan shakes his head. ―Nope.‖ He wishes he could blame it on jealousy—the twisted feeling in his gut. Wishes he could say, Yeah, I’m pissed you’re choosing another guy over me tonight. But it‘s not jealousy—it can‘t be anything that simple, not in Ryan‘s world. What he feels, what scratches beneath his skin and warms the back of his neck—it‘s fear.

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―I gave you the chance,‖ Jayden says as if he‘s reading Ryan‘s thoughts. ―You only had to say yes.‖ ―I don‘t do repeats,‖ Ryan says, parrots his safety net as though it will protect him from Jayden‘s pull. Jayden steps closer, rests his hand on Ryan‘s thigh. ―You‘re drawn to me,‖ he says, ―and you like me. That‘s called a connection, Ryan, and it‘s not all that common. Try it out.‖ Ryan has no recollection of reaching out, but the next thing he knows, he‘s got a fist full of Jayden‘s shirt and Jayden‘s tongue in his mouth—here, in the open, where everyone can see. Jayden pulls back slightly, nips at Ryan‘s bottom lip. ―I really didn‘t come here for you.‖ ―Shut up before I change my mind,‖ Ryan says, gets up, and drags Jayden toward the door.

*** They go to Jayden‘s place, and the drive over gives Ryan enough time to doubt everything. Getting too close to Jayden the last time pushed him into dangerous territory—this time, consciously going back for more, he‘s being downright suicidal. He knows this is going to end in hell: Jayden will want something more, or—and this is the most alarming thought Ryan‘s ever had—Ryan will have trouble walking away. He‘s never, in his entire sexual history, fucked a guy more than once—he considers it an achievement—and therefore, he has no idea if he‘s prone to getting attached. He doesn‘t do love or relationships; he has no intention of ever feeling anything. But the sex is so good with this guy, and he‘s already making Ryan uncertain and nervous—two things he‘s never had a problem with before. Spending more time with this guy demolishes the anonymous-hook-up scenario he loves so much. Why the fuck can‘t he leave it alone? It‘s not as though it‘ll be hard to never see Jayden again.

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―I‘m gonna help you relax,‖ Jayden says, casually unbuttoning his own shirt. They‘re in Jayden‘s bedroom, lit only by the moonlight. Jayden led him through the apartment without turning any of the lights on; Ryan didn‘t get to see a thing about Jayden‘s home, no clue as to the type of person he is, beyond his sexual appetite. It‘s a good thing, he tells himself. This way he can keep Jayden in a little box in his mind marked ―person I had sex with,‖ not ―person I got to know.‖ Less complicated. Ryan swallows. ―Really not necessary. Let‘s just do this.‖ With a quirked eyebrow, Jayden allows his shirt to fall to the floor, revealing a black wifebeater. He pauses a second, stares at Ryan with a contemplative gleam in his eye, then approaches him. Ryan tenses—he has no idea why. He wants this, wants to get his hands on that gorgeous body again, but the part of his brain that stores his no-repeats policy is still screaming at him, and a prickle of fear works its way down his spine. Jayden must read something in his face, because he halts his approach and adopts a mirthless smile. ―See? You really need to relax, otherwise it‘ll be morning before I even get your pants off.‖ He smiles again, gives it a genuine edge. ―Unless you‘d rather we didn‘t…?‖ ―No,‖ says Ryan. He takes a deep breath. ―Come on.‖ After a moment or two of thick, thoughtful silence, Jayden nods. ―Okay.‖ He switches on the bedside lamp and opens a drawer, then rummages inside. ―You like a massage?‖ ―Uh.‖ ―Take your shirt off and lie on the bed. I‘ll make it good.‖ The way Ryan sees it, he‘s got two choices here: surrender control or walk away. Jayden obviously has a plan; he‘s on a mission to do things his way, at his own speed. Ryan would rather fuck and go, enjoy an hour or so of pleasure and orgasms and vanish from Jayden‘s life altogether. But apparently Jayden‘s not in the mood for an impersonal fuck. He wants interaction, foreplay, a certain amount of buildup. Which is fine, really, for normal people. But not for Ryan. Not at all.

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―Ryan?‖ Jayden has to be the most beautiful guy Ryan‘s ever seen. His body‘s cut to perfection, coated in a soft tan; his eyes, so deep, darker now with arousal, pull Ryan in and make him question things he‘d rather ignore. He is, quite possibly, the closest thing to perfection Ryan‘s ever touched, kissed, wanted. Surrender control or walk away. What’s one more night? He reaches up and starts to unbutton his shirt as ordered while Jayden watches, holding a blue bottle he‘s pulled from the drawer. After Ryan removes his shirt, Jayden stares at his topless form for a moment, seemingly fascinated—and as Ryan turns to drape the shirt over the back of a chair, he feels a boost in confidence he had no idea he was lacking. ―On the bed,‖ Jayden says, all throat, his Adam‘s apple bobbing up and down. Ryan exhales, tries to banish the subconscious resistance creeping up in response to Jayden‘s control, and crosses over to the bed. ―How?‖ ―On your front.‖ Ryan does as he‘s told, marveling at his ability to do so. He stretches out on his belly, rests his head on his folded arms, and closes his eyes. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, and he tries to relax—but of course that only makes him tense up more. The bed dips, and after a few seconds of near silence, Jayden‘s slick hand touches his right shoulder blade. Ryan starts, the bed jolting beneath him, and Jayden makes a soothing noise. ―Close your eyes.‖ ―They are.‖ ―Hmm.‖ Jayden moves his hand in strong, sweeping motions, kneading at the dip between Ryan‘s shoulders, working his fingers into the grooves and bumps of Ryan‘s muscles. Then he places his hand on the small of Ryan‘s back and drags it all the way up his spine to his neck, rubbing the oil into the skin. A rich moan

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escapes Ryan, completely unbidden, and Jayden, seemingly emboldened by this, climbs onto the bed to straddle Ryan‘s hips and sits on Ryan‘s backside. And just like that, Ryan‘s hard. Using both of his warm, massive hands now, Jayden presses every inch of skin that‘s available to him, pushing his thumbs against each ridge of Ryan‘s spine, tracing circles in the dips above his hips, making Ryan‘s breathing speed up as his hands travel up Ryan‘s sides, over his shoulders, and along his arms. It feels so good, hot and personal and relaxing, and Ryan releases his arms from under his head and spreads them out as Jayden glides his hands along them, meets Ryan‘s hands, entwines their fingers for a brief, heart-stopping moment. Jayden‘s chest brushes against his back, and it‘s as bare as his own, the skin soft and smooth and so, so warm. Ryan wants to touch. Jayden‘s hands make the return journey, and this time—as he sweeps down Ryan‘s sides, his fingertips slipping beneath Ryan‘s chest—Ryan lifts up and lets them ghost over his nipples. They jump to attention, and his cock is hard enough to give him an uncomfortable twinge as it presses into the mattress. Leaning down again, Jayden presses a soft kiss between Ryan‘s shoulder blades, making the hair on the back of Ryan‘s neck stand on end, and when he feels Jayden‘s hard cock pushing into the small of his back, he can‘t help the groan that wrenches from his chest. Jayden flicks his tongue along Ryan‘s shoulder, making his way up to Ryan‘s neck. Ryan‘s skin tingles with little jolts of electricity, overheated and sensitive to every whisper of touch. ―The oil,‖ he mutters, wondering how Jayden can lick his coated skin without gagging. ―It‘s flavored. Here…‖ Jayden places a hand under Ryan‘s chin and lifts his head. The other hand goes to Ryan‘s lips, and Ryan accepts the finger without thought, sucks it into his mouth, licking off the taste of strawberries. When Ryan takes a second finger into

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his mouth, Jayden breathes warm and heavy into his ear, presses their cheeks together, lying almost completely on top of him. ―You‘ve got no idea how crazy you make me,‖ Jayden whispers, and Ryan nearly bites down on his fingers. Jayden licks Ryan‘s cheek, hissing when Ryan‘s body jolts, which causes him to knock against Jayden‘s groin. Dipping his head, Jayden bites Ryan‘s exposed throat, nearly suffocating him with his weight—and Ryan moans, sucks greedily on Jayden‘s fingers as Jayden gives one last bite, then licks the abused skin to soothe the stinging, and sits back up, removing his fingers from Ryan‘s mouth. ―Turn around,‖ Jayden says, lifting high enough for Ryan to be able to move. Once he turns over, Ryan‘s faced with a vision that can only be described as pure, unadulterated lust. Jayden‘s desire shines out of his eyes so forcefully Ryan can almost feel it, and he immediately grips Jayden‘s hips firmly, cursing the pants they‘re both still wearing. Jayden leans down—one hand supporting him beside Ryan‘s head, the other snaking between their bodies to hold Ryan‘s erection—and he swallows Ryan‘s moan, his tongue invading Ryan‘s mouth, demanding dominance. Ryan concedes, welcomes it, lifts his hips to press against Jayden‘s hand. Jayden pushes the heel of his hand onto the head of Ryan‘s cock, teasing him, curling his fingers around the shape beneath the material. He begins to rub gently, barely moving, just enough to keep Ryan wanting, making Ryan hiss into his mouth, nip at his tongue. ―You like that?‖ Jayden mumbles against his lips, and Ryan‘s only response is to tighten his grip on Jayden‘s hips. He pulls them toward him, and Jayden removes his hand just in time for their cocks to collide, causing both of them to cry out. Jayden breaks away, gasping, pushes down onto Ryan, creating friction that‘s both delicious and incredibly frustrating. They thrust their hips together, Ryan scratching at Jayden‘s back, raising a hand to tangle in Jayden‘s hair, pulling it so that Jayden lifts his head from where it‘s buried in his neck and kisses him more.

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They pick up the pace, building in excitement and arousal. They have no breath to spare for searching kisses, instead nipping and licking at lips, teeth, tongues, tasting sweat, desire, the anticipation of sex. Ryan pulls away from Jayden‘s mouth, rolling his head back, offering his throat, feeling it being coated in saliva, teeth scratching, pulling on the skin, a blunt pressure on his Adam‘s apple. He sucks in a ragged breath, dragging Jayden‘s hips against his own harder, faster, riding a tidal wave of pleasure. ―Wait,‖ Jayden hisses, forcefully stopping all movement, then slipping sideways off Ryan‘s body. Ryan reaches out in confusion, wanting Jayden back on top of him, wanting that cock rubbing against his own. But then Jayden‘s back, straddling Ryan‘s hips, the bottle of oil in his hand. And he‘s suddenly, beautifully naked. Ryan blinks, his arousal increasing tenfold, and then he nearly stops breathing altogether when Jayden pours some oil onto his fingers and reaches behind to prepare himself. ―It‘s my turn tonight,‖ he says, mouth falling slack. His eyes lock with Ryan‘s, his chest rises and falls rapidly, and he rocks back against his own fingers. He must have created a sensation he enjoyed, because he releases a moan that makes Ryan‘s cock twitch, and Jayden smirks, his other hand going to Ryan‘s desperate groin, undoing his trousers efficiently, releasing Ryan‘s dick from its confines, and grabbing it. He uses his thumb to spread the precum, stroking languidly, pulling Ryan‘s cock up to rub against his own, keeping Ryan occupied while he works his own asshole. And Ryan suddenly feels irrationally jealous because Jayden‘s receiving pleasure and it isn‘t by Ryan‘s doing. ―Come here,‖ he murmurs. Jayden smiles, his hips stalling, and he lowers himself to kiss Ryan. ―No,‖ Ryan says, putting a hand on Jayden‘s thigh and pulling. ―Come here.‖ Jayden‘s chest heaves. ―Oh God,‖ he says, and in a flurry of movement, Ryan has Jayden straddling his chest and a hard, warm cock in his mouth, Jayden‘s

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guttural groan filling the air. It‘s the same as last time, but somehow different. There‘s an element of familiarity now, a certain degree of intimacy. For the moment, the thought excites Ryan more than it scares him, and he allows Jayden to take charge. Jayden thrusts his hips, fucks Ryan‘s face, and Ryan raises his hand so that Jayden can coat his fingers in saliva. Then he searches out Jayden‘s hole, which is already slick from Jayden‘s ministrations. ―Fuck,‖ Jayden says as Ryan works two fingers in, twisting them, his tongue and throat wrapped around the throbbing dick in his mouth, his cheeks straining as he sucks hard, his nose buried in soft, sweat-damp curls on every thrust. His own hips rise from the bed as he tries to find something to alleviate the ache of his neglected cock. He adds a third finger, and the noise Jayden makes is something like a choked scream, his hips slamming down abruptly, almost making Ryan gag; he grabs Ryan‘s hair and pulls so that Ryan‘s head lifts slightly every time Jayden pushes his cock down Ryan‘s throat. It‘s dirty and rough, and Ryan‘s at risk of coming before he‘s even been touched. ―Yes,‖ Jayden moans, his whole body beginning to shake. ―Yeah, yeah, no. No. Stop.‖ Ryan pushes his fingers in as far as they can go, stroking every part of Jayden he can reach; he hears a harsh hiss, and then Jayden pushes in once more, hard, and then pulls away completely, wrenching Ryan‘s hand out of his ass with a cry. He ignores Ryan‘s whimpered protests as he scrabbles back down Ryan‘s body, positions himself, and slips a condom on Ryan‘s cock before Ryan can take a breath. Then he lifts upright and pulls Ryan‘s prick straight, seating himself until Ryan feels his cock probing Jayden‘s tight hole. He has a moment to wonder how often Jayden bottoms, if he‘s privileged. Then he pushes inside, impaling Jayden, smothering his cock in heat and tightness. His head spins as Jayden removes his hand from Ryan‘s cock and pulls on Ryan‘s nipple, lowering his other hand to his

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own dick, holding it without moving as he sinks down completely until the cleft of his ass presses against Ryan‘s balls. For a second or two, neither of them does anything other than pant and stare at each other. Jayden‘s eyes are glazed, his jaw relaxed, and Ryan gives him time to adjust to the invasion even as every part of his body is screaming at him to move. ―You all right?‖ he asks in a ragged voice. ―Yeah,‖ Jayden replies. ―God, yeah. You gotta touch me, Ryan.‖ Ryan doesn‘t need to be told twice. He knocks Jayden‘s hand out of the way and grips his prick firmly, stroking it, his thumb catching the vein along the underside and rolling over the head to tease the slit. Jayden groans, his eyes closing; he rises so far Ryan nearly finds himself unsheathed, then thrusts back down so abruptly that Ryan cries out, his other hand going to Jayden‘s hip, scrabbling and searching for purchase. Jayden soon develops a rhythm, moving up and down, playing with Ryan‘s nipples, writhing against Ryan‘s ministrations to his cock. Ryan grabs Jayden‘s arm and drags him down, adjusting his hand on Jayden‘s cock so that he can keep stroking him, and crashes their lips together. Their chests rub together with every thrust, and Jayden tenses the muscles in his ass on every downward movement, causing Ryan to start moaning irregularly, offering his mouth in clumsy kisses. One particularly rough thrust makes Ryan lift his hips and he rolls them over in a haze of desperation, pinning Jayden beneath him despite their size difference. He lifts Jayden‘s leg and hooks it over his shoulder. He pushes deep inside Jayden‘s body again and again, angling his hips so that he attacks Jayden‘s prostate, watching him cry out in pleasure, ecstasy, want. He grabs Jayden‘s leaking prick again, holds it tightly and strokes it in rough, sporadic movements while Jayden raises an arm and bites his hand, stifling his cries. Ryan pulls the hand away, breathing so hard it‘s painful, and pants, ―Don‘t. I want…I want to hear you.‖

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And then Ryan thrusts into him so powerfully Jayden‘s back arches, a ragged groan tearing through him, his head thrown back and his fingers clawing at the bedding, thick, pearly cum coating his chest and stomach as Ryan shudders over him. He dips his head and bites Jayden‘s shoulder as every part of his body cries out in release, filling Jayden with everything he has, his toes curling and his head spinning with such an intense orgasm his world turns black for an instant. When he comes to, Jayden‘s staring at him, his eyes warm and soft, his hand reaching up to trace the line of Ryan‘s cheekbone. Something clenches in Ryan‘s chest, and ten minutes later he‘s in a cab, his shirt still unbuttoned, his stomach rolling and coiling with terror.

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Chapter Three Saturday night and the club‘s heaving with sweaty, horny men, two rowdy stag parties, and a few quiet businessmen tucked away in the corners. Ryan keeps one sharp eye on the girls, the other on the customers and their wandering hands, always poised on the edge of adrenaline, waiting for someone to slip up. He‘s thrown out four guys already, and he‘s only been here an hour. He‘s aiming for a new record. ―Take some weight off,‖ Frankie says, placing a beer on the bar in front of Ryan. Frankie is the head barman, good at his job and good with the girls, and while he‘s not the biggest man, everyone‘s scared of him. Everyone except the girls, who like to paint his nails and take him to family functions and call on him whenever Ryan‘s busy elsewhere and a guy‘s getting too friendly. Frankie is a barman, not security, but he will never stop multitasking as long as the girls keep needing him. Ryan‘s known him his whole life and loves every last bit of him. ―Thanks, man. Busy night… Hang on,‖ he says, spying Olivia in action. She‘s been working one of the stag parties for the better part of twenty minutes, building her tips and shaking that ass until she scores. One guy takes her hand, and she leads him to the back of the club. ―Back in a bit,‖ he says to Frankie and takes off after her. It‘s not his job to watch the private rooms, but he makes it his job whenever Olivia‘s working them.

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He dodges around the tables, past the stage, beats Olivia there. ―I‘ve got this,‖ he says to Nathan, the new guy stationed at the admittance counter. He knocks Nathan out the way with his hip and smiles at Olivia when she approaches. He takes the guy‘s cash, gives him the usual lecture—no touching the dancer, no threatening behavior, no offering money for sexual favors—and keeps an eye on them through the one-way mirror on the wall. She‘s incredible at her job, born to dance, and sometimes she even manages to stir up something in him, and he‘s about as gay as they come. He often wishes he could see her on a stage, a stage not lit with low red light and vibrating with a pulsing bass line. It was her dream once, ballet or jazz or something, but she took a few wrong turns, made some mistakes, and he found her on a street one day three years ago, tiny and filthy, offering whatever she could if he could just spare a little cash. Six months later he took a job at a downtown lap-dancing club, because while he couldn‘t change her mind, there was no way in hell he was going to let her do it alone. She‘s all smiles when she comes out, satisfied with her performance; she waves away the guy and his uncomfortable bulge with a tinkling laugh. ―You good?‖ asks Ryan. She nods. ―I‘m good.‖ She squeezes his fingers as she passes him by, heading toward the staff door, going to take five minutes or a piss or something. He watches her fondly, takes in her slim figure and her strong limbs. Knows, really, she doesn‘t need him, she can take care of herself, that he can get a job anywhere else and she‘ll be just fine without him. But she doesn‘t say it, and neither does he. ―Dude,‖ says Nathan, as if he‘s been there the whole time. Ryan never notices him. ―You‘ve got it so bad.‖ Ryan glances at him. ―I‘m queer,‖ he says, tone mild and matter-of-fact. He smirks at the expression of shock that flitters across Nathan‘s face.

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Ryan doesn‘t look gay. He mostly likes that about himself. Sometimes, though, he wishes he weren‘t always the one who needed to make the first move. Not many guys hit on the heteros. ―Oh,‖ says Nathan. ―So she‘s not, uh…?‖ Ryan smiles. ―Touch her and you‘ll go through that wall. Understand?‖ He says it calmly enough, a friendly lilt to his tone. Nathan swallows, and Ryan walks away. ―That‘s not what I meant!‖ Nathan catches up to him, tugs on his shoulder to make him turn. There‘s a smile on his face now, something closer to a smirk. It makes him more attractive, somehow—showing he‘s something more than a quiet, shy back-room attendant. He‘s got an idea in his head; that much is obvious from his bright, calculating eyes, and Ryan stares at him, waits. ―I thought she was your girlfriend.‖ ―Nope. Just a friend.‖ Nathan‘s smirk turns predatory, becomes a hint of teeth pulling on his bottom lip, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He steps closer, hooks a finger into Ryan‘s belt loop, tugs a little. ―Then I have a proposition for you.‖ There‘s a flush spreading across his cheekbones, and the hand he brushes against Ryan‘s hip has a slight tremble to it. So young. So naive. Ryan sighs. ―Look, kid—‖ ―I‘m not a kid.‖ Nathan closes the last few inches between them, presses their hips together. ―Legal, willing, looking for a good time…‖ Ryan falters in his protest; his dick twitches, a minute show of interest. This kid‘s offering himself on a plate, opening himself up and wanting, and he‘ll be so tight…

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The beeping of Ryan‘s cell shatters the moment. He breaks away, ignores the flash of frustration that passes over Nathan‘s face. ―Better luck next time,‖ he says, reading Jayden‘s name on his phone‘s screen and walking away.

FROM: Jayden Busy tonight? TO: Jayden Working

*** It‘s coming near midnight when it happens. Ryan‘s in the corner picking up the chairs that were thrown around when a drunk customer got too handsy with one of the girls and earned himself Ryan‘s personal attention, when once again his phone beeps in his pocket.

FROM: Jayden I see you Ryan freezes. He looks around the bar, then relaxes when he sees nothing worth panicking over and turns back to the corner. And there‘s Jayden, right in front of him, smiling. ―Dude,‖ says Ryan, because there really isn‘t anything else he can say. Jayden‘s wearing that same mischievous grin that always spells trouble, and he‘s holding a beer, which means he‘s been here long enough to watch Ryan for a while. Ryan does not like that thought at all. ―So this is where you work.‖ Ryan stares, scared to look away. ―What are you doing here?‖ ―Checking out the ladies,‖ says Jayden, still sporting that ridiculous grin. ―You‘re gay.‖

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―Doesn‘t mean I can‘t appreciate the female form.‖ But his queasy expression says different, and Ryan almost laughs. ―So…I‘m guessing from all that kinky underwear hanging in your roommate‘s room that she works here. Which one is she?‖ Ryan doesn‘t know why he answers, has no fucking idea, but he sure will kick his own ass later. ―She‘s at the bar. On a break.‖ Jayden‘s eyes search across the room, lighting up when he spots his mark. ―Right,‖ he says, ―see you in a bit.‖ ―Whoa,‖ says Ryan, catching his wrist. ―What are you doing?‖ The grin is almost too blinding. ―Winning your friend over, of course.‖ And he‘s gone, a direct line to the bar. Ryan doesn‘t bother telling him he should really be focusing his attention on Frankie if he wants results. He‘s too busy begging the floor to open up and swallow him.

*** ―I mean,‖ says Frankie, apropos of nothing. Ryan‘s got one eye on the rowdy stags, another on Jayden talking up a storm with Olivia. He stays quiet and waits for Frankie to elaborate. ―I can see where it all went wrong.‖ ―Meaning?‖ ―You went against type. If you fuck with the status quo, then the status quo‘s gonna fuck with you.‖ Ryan quirks an eyebrow at him. ―That‘s real deep, man. But I got no idea what you‘re talking about.‖ ―I‘m talkin‘ about your boy over there.‖ ―He‘s not my boy.‖ Frankie makes a funny noise, somewhere between a snort and a scoff. ―You might wanna tell him that. I don‘t see this one goin‘ away.‖ He gives Ryan a dark, ominous look. ―You got yourself a clinger, son.‖ There‘s a thoughtful pause, during

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which Ryan tries not to hyperventilate. ―Maybe if you fuck him again and make it real bad,‖ Frankie suggests, ―he might not come back for more.‖ ―I‘m not fucking him again. I‘m pretty sure it‘s impossible to have bad sex with that guy.‖ ―Damn,‖ says Frankie. ―Then maybe you need to reevaluate your policy. You only live once.‖ ―Exactly.‖ Ryan draws up to his full height, sets his resolve. ―Which is why I‘m never wasting it on one guy. I like my policies, thanks. He can just… Whatever. He‘ll lose interest eventually.‖ ―Hm,‖ says Frankie. ―Will you?‖ Ryan‘s pretty sure his expression‘s something to laugh at right now. ―What?‖ ―Nothin‘.‖ And with a slap on Ryan‘s shoulder, he adds, ―No one knows you better than me, son. Remember that,‖ and ambles back off to work. Five minutes later, leaving Jayden at the bar to order another beer, Olivia skips over to Ryan looking like an excited but vaguely slutty puppy. ―Oh my God, I love him!‖ she half screeches. ―Of course you do.‖ ―Where did you find him? Can we keep him?‖ ―No,‖ says Ryan. ―What‘s he been saying about me?‖ ―Nothing.‖ ―Nothing?‖ ―Didn‘t mention you at all other than to say he was a friend of yours.‖ A dreamy smile spreads over her face. ―He spent the whole time asking about me. Can you believe that? A guy interested in things other than sex!‖ ―You know he‘s gay, right?‖ ―Oh yeah, I know. Figured you‘d fucked him.‖ She pins him with a stern glare. ―Fuck him again,‖ she says. ―And again. Keep doing it. I want him to stay.‖

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Damn, this guy‘s good. ―I can‘t believe how easy you are, taking in his bullshit.‖ ―Whatever,‖ she says, waving a hand. ―I gotta get back to work. Don‘t fuck this up, baby. I want to adopt him.‖ ―Go ahead. Leave me the fuck out of it.‖ ―You‘re such an asshole,‖ she says, leaning up to plant a kiss on his mouth. Jayden‘s making his way over, and Ryan‘s on the verge of offering Olivia any fucking thing she wants if she promises not to leave him alone right now, but she‘s already gone. Damn that bitch. He‘s left with nothing but Jayden‘s grin bearing down on him, and he prays with all he‘s worth that a fight breaks out somewhere in the bar so he has a reason to get away. ―Hey,‖ says Jayden, stopping before him. ―Did you miss me?‖ He takes a sip of beer. ―What am I saying? Of course you did.‖ He‘s not even going to try to respond to that. ―Finished sucking up to my friends?‖ ―She‘s great,‖ says Jayden, smiling. ―But she completely worships you. Clearly unhinged.‖ ―Fuck you,‖ says Ryan, the corners of his mouth twitching. ―I‘m serious! I tried getting her to talk about herself, but it was all ‗Ryan this‘ and ‗Ryan that.‘ Think you‘ve brainwashed her.‖ ―That‘s me. I‘m actually the leader of a cult, making all the women fall for my genius bullshit. I‘m planning a mass suicide.‖ ―Good luck with that,‖ says Jayden. ―Thanks.‖ ―But she did tell me about that guy she‘s dating. What‘s up with him?‖ ―I dunno. It‘s a weird situation and—Wait. She talked to you about that?‖ The irritation‘s there, prickling under his skin, a mild anger lacking the effort to really

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be a problem. But dammit, Olivia‘s his, her problems are his responsibility. He‘s the only one she talks to about this shit. Or used to be. ―Yeah,‖ says Jayden. He gives Ryan an odd look and tilts his head to one side. ―Fuck, how do you not drown under the weight of all your issues?‖ ―Jayden‖—Frankie is watching Ryan from across the room, half a smirk on his face—―you need to go.‖ ―You gotta learn to lighten up,‖ Jayden responds, stepping closer. ―What‘s the problem? Never had a guy be nice to you before?‖ Ryan has no idea what to say to that. ―Stop overanalyzing,‖ Jayden continues. ―Just because we fucked, it doesn‘t mean we can‘t be friends.‖ ―Friends?‖ says Ryan, as if it‘s a foreign concept. And as far as past fucks go, it is. ―Yeah. You can do that, right? Told you, I‘m new in town. And despite your shitty personality and constant scowl, I kinda like being around you.‖ ―You‘re mad,‖ says Ryan. Jayden shrugs. ―Yep.‖ Ryan heaves a sigh. ―I can‘t. Okay? I can‘t do the whole ‗friends‘ thing. Not with…not with you.‖ ―Oh, good,‖ says Jayden, words coming out in a rush. ―Because I really want to kiss you.‖ Ryan wants to take a step back; he really does. But some inconsiderate bastard‘s nailed his feet to the floor. ―Yeah,‖ says Jayden, staring at Ryan‘s mouth, oblivious to his plight. ―I‘m gonna kiss you now.‖ ―No, you‘re not.‖ ―I totally am,‖ says Jayden. And yeah, okay.

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The kiss isn‘t hesitant, but it‘s careful. Jayden takes Ryan‘s jaw in his enormous hand and tilts his face up, then takes Ryan‘s bottom lip between his own and kisses him like he‘s the most delicate thing he‘s ever had in his hands. And when their lips part and their tongues meet, it‘s so gentle it hurts, so soft it‘s terrifying, and Ryan does his best to turn it into something filthy, something heated, to put it back on more familiar ground. But Jayden‘s having none of it. He keeps Ryan still, hand light but firm against his face, controls the kiss so it remains an exploration of soft, sweet touches rather than something likely to make either of them hard. And Ryan doesn‘t get hard, thank God, but he does feel something down his spine, a warmth pooling in his gut. It‘s almost painful how good it feels. When Jayden pulls away with a final, lingering press of lips, his face remaining so close, Ryan‘s breathless. ―What are you doing?‖ he says but he gets the feeling it comes out more like a hoarse mumble. ―It‘s called sweeping you off your feet.‖ Ryan‘s stomach jolts. ―It‘s not working.‖ ―Liar,‖ says Jayden and kisses him again. ―Um,‖ Ryan murmurs sometime later, trying to find his voice. His lips brush Jayden‘s as he talks, as if neither of them wants to create enough space to exchange conversation. The air between them is warm, so warm, as though they‘re enclosed in a heated bubble of privacy where a beautiful guy and his beautiful kisses find no protests in turning Ryan into a guy he‘s convinced everyone he‘s not. ―I gotta help close up.‖ ―Yeah,‖ Jayden whispers, turning his head a little to brush the tip of his nose against Ryan‘s cheekbone. ―Yeah, okay.‖ Several seconds pass before Ryan can pull himself away.

***

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It‘s approaching two in the morning when Ryan finishes up. Olivia‘s been off the job for an hour, hanging out back with some of the other girls, gossiping or braiding hair or whatever the fuck they get up to when they‘re not working. He‘s shrugging on his jacket, wondering where Jayden‘s gone, when Frankie approaches him. He wears a dishcloth over one shoulder and a face made for ―serious discussion.‖ ―So, Ryan—‖ ―No,‖ says Ryan. ―Don‘t even.‖ ―Didn‘t look so bad,‖ says Frankie, knocking his shoulder against Ryan‘s, ―is all I‘m sayin‘.‖ Ryan scowls. ―It was a moment of madness. Don‘t know what the fuck I was thinking.‖ Frankie grins. ―You were thinkin‘ that this guy‘s pretty damn hot and kissin‘ him‘s not the worst thing you could do.‖ ―You sure you‘re not gay?‖ ―Thank fuck,‖ says Frankie. ―‘Cause otherwise you‘da fucked me by now and left me high and dry. You don‘t know how to operate any other way.‖ ―Come on, man,‖ Ryan says with a long-suffering groan. ―When are you gonna give this up?‖ ―When you quit screwing yourself over, son. This whole ‗no personal attachments‘ shit is doing you no favors, and I‘m tired of your tight-ass mood swings.‖ Frankie blinks. ―No pun intended.‖ ―Whatever,‖ says Ryan, fishing his keys out of his pocket. ―I like my life the way it is. And you, man, back the fuck off. I can make my own damn decisions.‖ Frankie sighs. ―One of these days I‘mma murder you in your sleep.‖ Which is when Olivia decides to make an appearance, arm in arm with one of the new dancers. Ryan‘s been introduced to her, but God help him if he‘s ever remembered a name in his life. It‘s not important, though; what‘s important is

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they‘ve got Jayden with them, laughing and glowing, as if he‘s one of the fucking girls. ―You ready to go?‖ Ryan says to Olivia, shooting a vague smile in New Girl‘s direction. He doesn‘t miss her blush, and he doesn‘t meet Jayden‘s eye. ―Yeah. Listen, Sophie here doesn‘t have a car yet, so I said we‘d drop her home tonight.‖ Ryan nods, but Sophie gives an awkward laugh. ―No, really,‖ she says in a tone that suggests she‘s gone over this a thousand times with Olivia already. ―I live about five minutes away in the other direction. I can walk.‖ ―You‘re not walking,‖ says Frankie gruffly, throwing his dishcloth at the bar. ―Give me two minutes and I‘ll take you home.‖ ―Honestly,‖ she says. ―I—‖ ―No arguments,‖ says Frankie, and he offers her a smile. She returns it, a hint of interest in her eyes. Ryan feels a little bit sorry for her. Frankie doesn‘t dip his pen in the company ink, and no amount of Sophie‘s fluttering eyelashes is going to change that. He just takes care of his girls is all. If the time ever comes, he‘ll let her down gently. He‘s become the master at that. ―Right, that‘s settled,‖ says Olivia, clapping her hands together. She breaks away from Sophie to tug on Ryan‘s sleeve. ―Come on, baby. My feet have ‗Ryan‘s legendary massage‘ written all over them. Jayden,‖ she adds, ―wanna come with? I got a bottle of tequila with your name on it.‖ Jayden laughs, sneaks a glance at Ryan. ―Thanks, but I‘m just gonna head home. It was great meeting you, though. Give me a call sometime.‖ He breaks away from the girls, gives a small smile to Ryan as he passes him by the door. Ryan puts a hand firmly on Jayden‘s chest and halts him. ―What?‖ he says. ―You‘re not even looking to get laid?‖

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Not that it matters. Ryan wasn‘t going take him home anyway. His strict norepeats policy is still in effect, regardless of whatever crazy-ass fairy dust Jayden keeps trying to sprinkle on him. Jayden looks at him—just looks at him—and dips his voice low. ―Nope. I‘m going home to bed.‖ ―Then why‘d you bother coming down here?‖ ―To see you,‖ says Jayden, as if it‘s the most obvious thing in the world. He steps closer then, bends a little, whispers into Ryan‘s ear, ―You‘re more than just a fuck, you know.‖ Ryan‘s breath seizes in his chest, and he has no fucking idea why. ―Night, Ryan,‖ Jayden murmurs, and with a brief squeeze of Ryan‘s fingers, he‘s gone. When Ryan claws back enough sanity to turn away from the door, he‘s met with a duo of dreamy smiles from the girls and a smirk from Frankie. ―Shut up,‖ he mumbles, the back of his neck burning. Frankie winks, which makes Sophie blush again even though it wasn‘t directed at her. Then Olivia‘s yanking on Ryan‘s arm and telling him to come on already before her legs give up. He lifts her into his arms as if she‘s some damsel in distress, laughs at her squealing, and totally ignores the rain that hammers down on them as soon as he steps foot outside.

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Chapter Four If there was ever a guy created for the sole purpose of giving sound, if slightly strange, advice, it‘s Ethan. Ryan doesn‘t really call him a friend; it‘s not as though he hangs out with him or calls him up for no reason. But on occasion Ethan turns up at Ryan‘s door unannounced, a bottle of wine in hand and a story or ten Ryan‘s never entirely sure is true. He has no idea how he managed to get an Ethan in his life, but he has, and it‘s times like these when it‘s the most useful thing in the world. ―I think I‘m drunk,‖ Ethan says, sitting prim and poised on Ryan‘s couch, ―because none of what you just said made any sense. Can you repeat it? Perhaps this time you might want to condense it into one single, complete sentence. No footnotes.‖ Ryan takes a breath. ―I met this guy, fucked him a couple times, and now he won‘t leave me alone.‖ ―Hm. What‘s his name?‖ ―Why?‖ says Ryan. ―You‘re not planning on sending a whole troupe of fake vampires round to his house like you did with What‘s His Name, are you?‖ Ethan frowns. ―Who‘s What‘s His Name?‖ ―You know. That guy I fucked. The one who kept sending me pictures of his cock.‖ ―Right,‖ says Ethan, nodding. ―You thought that was funny.‖ ―Heh. Yeah. He kinda believed in all that shit.‖ ―Interesting,‖ says Ethan, ―that you don‘t want me to do it to the new stalker.‖

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―Well, no. I don‘t want him terrorized. I just want him gone.‖ ―Name?‖ Ryan hesitates. ―Jayden Cobain.‖ ―Awesome name,‖ says Ethan. ―You know, for when you get married.‖ ―Oh my God.‖ Ethan pats Ryan‘s knee. ―Tell me what‘s so bad about this Jayden Cobain.‖ ―Well,‖ says Ryan, raring to go. ―It‘s just he…‖ He clears his throat. ―You know, it‘s this thing. Uh.‖ He stops, blinking. ―He won‘t leave me alone.‖ ―And?‖ ―That‘s it,‖ Ryan says lamely. ―That‘s my problem. He won‘t leave me alone.‖ ―Him not leaving you alone is not a problem. The reasons why you want him to leave you alone are the problem.‖ ―Him not leaving me alone is the reason I want him to leave me alone.‖ Ethan presses two fingers to his forehead. ―You‘re going to give me a headache.‖ ―Yeah, well, right back at you.‖ ―Let‘s start this again,‖ says Ethan. ―Do you like this guy?‖ ―He‘s all right,‖ Ryan admits grudgingly. Ethan raises an eyebrow. ―Okay, yeah, he‘s…nice.‖ ―See,‖ says Ethan. ―I‘m still not getting your problem. Was he awful in bed?‖ ―No,‖ says Ryan, too quickly. ―No, the sex was…fine.‖ ―Everything‘s ‗nice‘ or ‗fine‘ with you. Do your emotions only operate on one level?‖ Ryan gives him a flat look. ―I don‘t do emotion.‖ ―What you don‘t do, Ryan, is rational thinking. You meet this great guy who‘s great in bed, and he seems to think you’re pretty great, if he‘s going out of his way to get to know you—‖

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―He came to my work. He made friends with Olivia!‖ ―Well, Christ,‖ says Ethan. ―Throw him to the wolves.‖ Ryan glares, and in response, Ethan breathes a small but significant sigh. ―What‘s the real problem here?‖ he asks, voice quiet. ―It‘s just…‖ Ryan deflates, sags back against the couch. ―I think he‘s gonna want what I can‘t give him.‖ ―You mean a re—‖ ―Don’t say it. And yeah. I mean, he kinda figured I have all these rules about this kind of shit, but he‘s completely ignoring them.‖ ―A man not afraid to go after what he wants,‖ Ethan muses. ―And a man who doesn‘t scare easily. Because you, Ryan—you‘re a piece of work. Let me ask you one question.‖ ―Okay.‖ ―Of all the guys you‘ve slept with, all the men you‘ve had in that poor bed of yours, how many of them thought to get to know your best friend?‖ When Ryan says nothing, Ethan asks, ―Is he trying to get back in your pants?‖ ―No…‖ ―So he‘s just looking to spend time with you?‖ ―You—‖ says Ryan, his stomach doing a slow, lazy somersault. ―You‘re a terrible friend. Get out.‖ Ethan grins. ―Glad I could be of service. Now where‘s Olivia‘s new guy? I‘m dying to meet him.‖ ―He should be here by now.‖ Ryan checks his watch. Right on cue, someone knocks on the door. ―I‘ll get it!‖ Olivia shouts, tripping out of her room, her hair still in rollers. ―And, baby,‖ she says as she rushes past the couch, ―you should listen to Ethan. Ethan is God.‖ Ethan beams. Ryan barely resists the urge to slap him.

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A few moments later, Olivia‘s leading her weird boyfriend into the room, without bothering to make introductions. She vanishes back into her bedroom with an order for Ryan to keep him entertained, as if she‘s got no fucking intention of playing host to her guest. And really, when a guy dares to stand in Ryan‘s front room wearing sunglasses and a popped collar on his Armani, he‘s asking for a little hell. Ethan gets to his feet, and Ryan sits back to watch the show, folds his arms over his chest in such a way to accentuate the muscles he works damn hard to tone. ―So,‖ says Ethan, taking a few steps forward. Ethan‘s got this weird thing for Olivia. He doesn‘t want to fuck her, not even back when he had the chance. But he sends her at least fifteen texts a day and always wants Ryan to tell him the details of the latest guy she‘s fooling around with. Olivia once mentioned something about knowing Ethan when she was living on the streets, but Ryan‘s never gotten to the bottom of it. All he knows is Ethan loves Olivia, and the reason for it is one of the world‘s greatest mysteries. He‘s not even sure he‘s seen them exchange more than three sentences in person. Now Ethan‘s smiling at the guy in that crazy serial-killer way of his, and Ryan thinks it‘s marvelous. ―You‘re Olivia‘s new friend.‖ He says friend like he means to insult. ―Yeah,‖ says the guy. Ryan vaguely remembers the name Eddie, but there‘s a chance he‘s mixing it up with the guy she dated last month. She doesn‘t have the best track record; some of it‘s her job, some of it‘s down to Ryan‘s stellar judgment of character. Most of it‘s down to Olivia being a douche magnet. ―We‘re just going for a few drinks. You can, uh…you can come, if you want?‖ He couldn‘t sound less sincere. ―Thank you,‖ says Ethan, ―but I don‘t want to intrude on her playtime.‖ He wanders over to the armchair and leans against it, then crosses his ankles and folds his arms over his chest. King of the manor. The guy nods. ―Right. Um. So are you Olivia‘s roommate?‖

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―Nope.‖ ―Okay, uh. One of her gay friends?‖ Ryan‘s spine prickles at that. Like Olivia has friends, and then she has gay friends. He doesn‘t say anything, though, because it‘s way too funny watching Ethan wind this guy up. ―Not exactly.‖ Ryan can practically hear the guy think, Jesus Christ. ―Well, either way, I promise to have her home at a reasonable hour.‖ Ethan inclines his head, stares at him long and hard. The guy shuffles his feet, eyes twitching as if he‘s trying to break the eye contact but can‘t. ―You see what I‘m doing here?‖ says Ethan. ―Uh…no?‖ ―It‘s all in the eyes,‖ says Ethan. ―My tone is polite, and I‘m not giving off any threatening behavior, but you‘re still intimidated.‖ The guy swallows. ―The eyes,‖ Ethan continues, ―are very expressive. I learned that in Thailand. Have you ever been to Thailand?‖ ―No,‖ says the guy, an obvious effort going into keeping his voice level, as if he‘s afraid any sudden rise or fall in volume is likely to kick-start Ethan‘s axmurdering potential. ―I‘ve not gotten round to it.‖ ―You should,‖ Ethan says, bringing his hand close to his face, index and middle fingers pointed at his eyes. ―You learn things.‖ He gives a solitary, very sage nod. ―The eyes.‖ The guy blinks. ―Right.‖ ―Stop scaring Eddie,‖ says Olivia, returning. Her hair‘s tumbling in loose curls, she‘s wearing a slinky red dress, makeup subtle, and she smells of the perfume Ryan bought for her out of his pay packet last month. ―You look great,‖ Ryan says, smiling at her. ―Close your mouth, Eddie.‖

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―Right, um. Sorry. You ready to go, Ollie?‖ ―Ollie?‖ Ryan and Ethan say together. Olivia glares at them. ―Shut up. And be good. Ryan, if you‘re bringing anyone home tonight, please don‘t have sex on the living-room floor again. It took me forever to get the cum stains out of the carpet.‖ Eddie looks perfectly scandalized, glancing around at the floor as though trying to find the stains. ―Ooh,‖ says Ethan. ―I can come out with you, Ryan. I‘ll be your wingman.‖ ―There‘s not enough ‗no‘ in the world. But I think I‘m staying in anyway. We can get drunk here.‖ ―In that case,‖ says Olivia, ―please, baby, don‘t fuck Ethan. He‘s too good for you.‖ ―Bitch,‖ says Ryan. Olivia leans over the back of the couch, long hair falling over Ryan‘s shoulder. ―Shut up and give me a kiss, you slut.‖ Then, in a whirlwind of kisses and hugs and threats, she‘s taken her weird boyfriend and vanished. But barely an hour later, Ryan gets her text:

FROM: Olivia I’m at Mount Green Motel. Come pick me up? My life sucks so hard. When he gets there and spots her leaning against the wall near the reception area, he‘s out the car and gathering her in his arms before the first tear can fall from her carefully made-up eyes. ―God, I‘m so stupid,‖ she mumbles against his shoulder. ―What‘s he done to you? Did he hurt you? Tell me now, and Frankie and I will—‖ ―No.‖ She sniffs. ―He didn‘t get a chance to touch me.‖

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―Where is he, then? What happened?‖ ―He was finally over his weird no-touching thing, you know? And I asked him… I asked him why he got us a motel room, why we couldn‘t just go to his place. And he said…he said—Fuck, baby, he‘s married. He thought I knew. Said it was why he‘s never kissed me or touched me. Because we were always in public, and he didn‘t wanna get caught. I‘m so stupid. So fucking stupid.‖ He pulls her in tighter, tucks her head into his neck, hand stroking her hair and his skin itching with the need to do some damage. ―You‘re not stupid, Liv. You‘re just… How were you to know?‖ Olivia doesn‘t reply for a long time, and when she does, she speaks in a voice so tiny and broken, Ryan wants to wrap her up and hold her close and never let another man near her again. ―I really liked this one.‖ And okay, maybe he doesn‘t understand why. But he doesn‘t need to. What he does need to do is get her home and warm her up and have her laughing so hard she‘s at risk of peeing herself. So that‘s exactly what he does.

*** When his phone rings at eleven that night, Ryan considers not answering it. The name on the screen flashes at him like a neon light blended with an air-raid siren—impossible to ignore and enough to threaten the onset of a headache. Eventually, after ten full rings, he answers. ―You got a watch?‖ ―Like you ever go to bed before two,‖ Jayden says, a smile in his voice. ―Actually,‖ says Ryan, leaning back on his pillows, ―that‘s exactly where I am.‖ ―Tempting.‖ Before Ryan can point out that it wasn‘t meant to be, Jayden adds, ―But it‘s not why I‘m calling.‖ ―I‘m fascinated,‖ Ryan deadpans. ―Let‘s hear it.‖

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Jayden hesitates. Ryan hears it in the tiny hitch of his breath. ―I just wanted to ask if you‘d like to get dinner sometime.‖ ―You‘re not serious,‖ Ryan blurts, heart stuttering in subdued terror. Not many people outright ask him on a date, so he‘s had little practice in how to do the polite-rejection thing. But fuck it; Jayden‘s a big boy. ―Why? Don‘t you like me?‖ There‘s a definite hint of teasing in Jayden‘s tone, and Ryan carefully sidesteps the question. ―What part of me are you failing to understand? I don‘t do dates. I thought that was obvious.‖ ―You also don‘t fuck the same guy twice,‖ Jayden says, and Ryan winces. He‘s got a point. ―And we both know how that turned out.‖ ―That‘s different.‖ ―Really? Do tell.‖ Ryan rolls his eyes. ―Fucking is fucking. And dating is…pointless.‖ ―Wow,‖ says Jayden. ―That really cleared things up for me. Thanks.‖ ―You know what I mean. I like sex, okay? I don‘t like—‖ ―Complications?‖ ―Exactly,‖ says Ryan. ―Now if you were calling to ask for a blowjob, then there‘s a small chance we could‘ve negotiated something. But a date—‖ ―A blowjob, huh? Doesn‘t that count as a repeat?‖ Ryan considers his answer. ―Technically…‖ ―Are you saying you‘d reconsider your bullshit policies for the sake of getting my cock in your mouth again?‖ ―Well…‖ He falters. What the fuck is he doing? In a manic attempt to derail this particular line of questioning, he says, ―Wait. Bullshit policies? I‘ll have you know my policies have brought me nothing but good things over the years.‖ ―You mean orgasms?‖

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―Of course orgasms. What‘s better than an orgasm?‖ ―Chemistry,‖ Jayden responds immediately. ―A connection. The thrill of getting to know someone.‖ He pauses. ―Love.‖ Ryan snorts. ―No, thanks.‖ ―Dude. What is your deal? You must be making yourself crazy.‖ ―Nope.‖ He stretches out on the bed, crosses one ankle over the other. ―And there‘s no point thinking you‘re gonna change me.‖ ―Wasn‘t trying to. But hello, arrogance. Do you really think you‘re worth that much effort?‖ Ryan‘s entire body pulls taut, and he opens his mouth to say something—a cutting remark, maybe—or to express his indignation, but Jayden beats him to it. ―Guess we‘ll just have to find out.‖ ―What?‖ says Ryan, cringing at his own complete lack of eloquence. What is it about this guy? Honestly, Ryan really wants to fucking know. Every time they interact—sexually or otherwise—Ryan ends up running around in circles, trying to keep up. It‘s not how things should work. Ryan‘s the confident one, self-assured and with just the right amount of ego. Jayden, however… It seems he‘s on a mission to rip the world out from beneath Ryan‘s feet. ―I‘m not ready to let it go yet.‖ Ryan swallows. ―Let what go?‖ ―You like me,‖ Jayden says. ―I know you do. And I really wanna know why you‘re so intent on denying it.‖ ―Now who‘s the arrogant one?‖ The words force themselves through Ryan‘s dry throat, and he knows he failed to inject the right amount of humor into his tone. But he doesn‘t care. Jayden shouldn‘t be saying such stupid things. ―Whatever,‖ says Jayden. ―Good night.‖ Ryan blinks. ―You‘re hanging up on me?‖ ―Why? You got something else you want to say?‖

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―No,‖ says Ryan, and after a few moments of silence, Jayden sighs. ―So I‘ll let you go.‖ ―Um.‖ ―Night, Ryan. Think about that date.‖ ―My answer won‘t change—‖ Ryan begins, but Jayden‘s already hung up. Staring at the wall in total confusion, Ryan drops his phone onto the bed and wonders, vaguely, how many puppies he murdered in a past life to warrant such irritation now. He‘s happy with anonymous fucking. Really, he is.

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Chapter Five Ryan doesn‘t usually bring guys home in the middle of the day, but he met this one in Starbucks, all chocolate-dark eyes and tanned skin, a smile promising sin and hands that strayed. There wasn‘t really any question about it. ―Come on,‖ he says breathily, back against his bedroom wall, the guy staring up at him with glistening eyes. ―I know you can take more than that.‖ The guy swallows, takes Ryan in farther, tongue working against the vein on the underside of his cock so good. ―Yeah,‖ says Ryan, knocking his head on the wall. ―Yeah, like that.‖ He‘s climbing to a pretty decent orgasm when Olivia bounces into the room. The guy tries to stop, but Ryan grabs him by the back of the head and keeps him pushed down. Ryan‘s toes have started to curl. ―Baby,‖ she says, and then, ―Oh. Hello, Random Guy Sucking Ryan‘s Cock. Um. Baby, listen, I‘ve invited the guys over for a movie night tonight. I hope you‘ve not made plans.‖ ―Fuck,‖ says Ryan when the guy gives a little extra suction. His vision starts to blacken, little stars creeping in at the edges, and with a groan, he squeezes his eyes shut. ―Not the time, Olivia.‖ ―Yeah, I‘m going. But, uh. I just wanted to let you know that I‖—she pauses, something worrying in her tone—―I invited Jayden.‖ Panic and horror wash over Ryan even as he comes, shooting spunk down the guy‘s throat with every thrust of his hips. He tries not to make noise, to keep the awkwardness to a minimum, but fuck, it‘s not even a great blowjob, yet his orgasm‘s fierce.

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―Ew,‖ says Olivia. ―Gross.‖ Ryan kind of wants to kill her.

*** He finds her in the kitchen when the guy‘s gone. She‘s making herself some coffee, looking so innocent, like butter wouldn‘t melt in her evil little mouth. One of his old T-shirts skims her thighs, hot pants beneath, a pair of fuzzy socks pulled up to her knees. She‘s not wearing a scrap of makeup, her hair falling in loose waves, and it‘s times like these when Ryan thinks she looks the most beautiful. He still hates her guts. ―You,‖ he says, pointing at her, ―are a little traitor.‖ ―Do you want some coffee?‖ ―Do you know what you are? You‘re Judas.‖ ―Oh my God,‖ she says. ―You‘re such a melodramatic old queen.‖ ―Don‘t even start, Olivia. You‘re evil. I need to bring in a priest.‖ ―I only invited him to watch a movie, baby. Will you calm the fuck down?‖ ―No,‖ he says, chest tight. ―You can just uninvite him.‖ ―Uh, no. He‘s my friend too, and if I want him here, he‘s coming.‖ ―You barely know the guy! Why d‘you wanna be his friend?‖ She grins. ―Because I want to be a bridesmaid at your beautiful wedding! Can‘t you imagine it? You‘re gonna have such gorgeous children. No,‖ she gasps, caught in some kind of insane rapture. ―Dogs. Two of ‘em. I can sense it.‖ Ryan stares at her. ―You‘ve officially lost your mind.‖ He walks away, rubbing his forehead. ―I‘m living with a crazy woman.‖ ―You‘ll thank me one day!‖ she calls after him. He slams his bedroom door on her stupid voice. Grabbing his phone, he suffers only a brief moment of indecision before setting his resolve.

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TO: Jayden You’re not really coming tonight, are you? The response comes within seconds.

FROM: Jayden Sure am. And if ur nice, I might even talk to u. No promises. It takes all Ryan‘s restraint not to suffocate himself under his pillow.

*** So here‘s the thing. Ryan loves his best friends: Frankie, Olivia, even Sophie the New Girl. They‘re always good for a laugh, and tonight they‘re in top form, cracking jokes, falling into each other in hysterics. Olivia‘s happy again, sitting on the arm of Frankie‘s chair, not minding the hand Frankie has resting on her hip, and between the two of them and Frankie‘s soothing, calm way of talking, Sophie‘s coming out of her shell, brightening up, becoming one of them. It‘s a good night with good friends and, hopefully, a good movie. Except Ryan can‘t enjoy any of it, because he knows, like an anvil of dread dropped in his stomach, that any minute JaydenfuckingCobain will walk through the door. And when he does, when he turns up wearing that ridiculous grin and sits on the couch beside Frankie and fucking inserts himself into Ryan‘s life, things don‘t happen quite the way Ryan expects them to. Jayden ignores him. Oh, sure, he shoots Ryan the occasional smile, joins in on the conversations Ryan‘s a part of, but that‘s it. Inexplicably, Ryan‘s irritated, because Jayden really is here as Olivia‘s friend, and Ryan no longer knows where he stands. Before, it was simple: Ryan was the one-fuck-only selfish bastard being pursued by someone who was a little lovesick.

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Now, though. Now he‘s just a guy on the edge of Jayden‘s new circle of friends, and everything‘s up in the air. It‘s confusing is it what it is, and Ryan likes to be sure of himself. ―So, Olivia,‖ says Jayden when there‘s a lull in the conversation, ―what‘s new with your man?‖ Olivia makes a face. ―Ugh. Don‘t ask.‖ Frankie eyes her, the hand on her hip jolting into a caressing motion. ―What is it? What did he do?‖ ―Nothing,‖ she says, sighing. ―He‘s married.‖ Frankie‘s hand stalls, nail beds going white. ―What?‖ ―Yeah. Just my luck, right? I mean, God, where have all the good men gone?‖ Frankie glances down at his own lap, blinks, and out the corner of his eye Ryan sees Jayden give Frankie a knowing look. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Sophie perks up. ―I know! How about we play spin the bottle?‖ Bless her. Her eyes are wide, her face all eager as she looks at Frankie, but he‘s too busy watching Olivia. Olivia laughs. ―Sweetie, you‘re in the wrong crowd for that. I‘m not kissing these dicks. Jayden‘s gay, and Ryan—well, he doesn‘t kiss anyone. Ever.‖ Ryan doesn‘t mean to look at Jayden, but he does, and Jayden‘s looking right back at him. ―You don‘t?‖ The blush starts slowly on the back of his neck, creeps down to his chest, and his

mind

flushes

through

white

and

empty.

Fortunately—or

perhaps

unfortunately—Olivia answers for him. ―Nope. Don‘t think he‘s kissed anyone for years. Says it‘s too personal.‖ ―D‘you wanna shut up?‖ Ryan shoots at her. She smiles, one eyebrow quirked, as if she knows exactly what the fuck she‘s doing. ―Interesting,‖ says Jayden, and Ryan can‘t return his gaze.

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―Wait,‖ says Sophie. ―Frankie, didn‘t you tell me you saw these two sucking face the other night at work?‖ And, fuck, they talk about him? ―What?‖ shrieks Olivia. ―No way! How‘d I miss that?‖ Ryan glares at her. ―Shut up, Olivia.‖ ―You shut up. And tell me everything! Baby, it‘s like he took your virginity.‖ ―Seriously, Liv, your crazy‘s showing.‖ Jayden laughs. It‘s pretty much the best laugh Ryan‘s ever heard. ―Wow, Jayden,‖ Olivia says. ―You might actually be taming this beast.‖ ―Start the film,‖ Ryan says abruptly, getting to his feet. ―I‘ll be back soon.‖ He leaves the room to a chorus of sarcastic aaaah, poor babys, and when he‘s in the kitchen, when he‘s alone, he leans against the counter and swears. If his friends had their way, he‘d be trussed up in white and frog-marched down the aisle with this random guy he barely knows, all because he‘s wormed his way in with his fucking charm and his smile and his beautiful looks. It‘s suffocating. There‘s also a small part of him that burns hot whenever he thinks of Jayden, and whatever that is, he‘d like to murder it. ―So Olivia tells me you got lucky today,‖ Jayden says from nowhere when Ryan‘s in the middle of putting popcorn in a bowl to give himself some breathing time. And then Jayden‘s there, pressed up against him, a blanket of heat spread across his whole back. Ryan clears his throat. ―It‘s not luck. It‘s skill.‖ ―Hm.‖ His hands find Ryan‘s hips, snake around to his tummy, hold still there as he brushes his lips against Ryan‘s neck, barely a ghost of a touch. Ryan shivers. ―What is it about fucking strangers you like so much?‖ ―No complications.‖ Ryan‘s got no idea what to do here, if he should carry on piling popcorn into the bowl as if nothing‘s happening, if he should break away or

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turn around and drop to his knees. All he can do, really, is stand there, breathe, and let Jayden‘s hands slip down to his zipper, cup his dick. ―What kind of complications do you think there‘d be,‖ Jayden asks, talking as if he‘s not pressing his palm down on Ryan‘s stiffening cock, driving him crazy, ―from fucking the same guy twice?‖ ―If you keep fucking the same guy, it becomes something. I don‘t want that.‖ Jayden‘s tongue on his neck, a sweet trail up to his ear, his fingers dipping down to press against balls, and Ryan‘s knees weaken. ―You‘ve fucked me twice,‖ Jayden murmurs, takes the zipper, and pulls down, one achingly slow tooth at a time. ―Would you say we have something?‖ ―What d‘you want from me, Jayden? D‘you wanna fuck me again?‖ He‘s talking quietly, mindful of the room full of people next door, and his voice is growing hoarser by the second as Jayden gets the zipper open, dips his fingers between, traces along the hard line of his cock through his boxers. It‘s a whisper of a touch, barely anything at all, but Ryan‘s burning up, a shiver in his spine and a flutter in his chest, and he‘s hard, so hard. ―You‘d like that, wouldn‘t you?‖ Jayden mutters against Ryan‘s neck, other hand coming up to touch Ryan‘s jaw, his chin. His thumb traces along Ryan‘s bottom lip, and Ryan wants to lick it, opens his mouth a touch in invitation. ―Because that would mean I‘m just like every other guy you‘ve known. Only after one thing. If I fucked you now—took you to bed and blew your mind like you know I can—then you‘ll feel validated, Ryan, and why the hell would I want that?‖ ―God,‖ says Ryan, because, fuck, he‘s got no idea what‘s going on here, no fucking clue; feels like he‘s been torn open and spilled out and left as nothing but a plaything for this man, a man who‘s such a mystery, an intriguing enigma, and God, Ryan just wants to know. ―I don‘t know what you want from me,‖ he tries, his voice all throaty whisper. Jayden‘s fingers find the wet patch on his boxers and push down against the head of his cock, rubbing, fucking caressing. ―I know nothing about you.‖

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―Ask me. I‘ll tell you anything.‖ He tilts Ryan‘s head back, presses their warm cheeks together, turns his face slightly to rub his lips against Ryan‘s cheekbone. ―Come out with me tomorrow,‖ he says, and he‘s hard too, stiff against Ryan‘s ass, and when Ryan pushes back against it, a hitched breath cracks his voice. ―Agree to go out with me tomorrow, just you and me, and I‘ll make you come right now.‖ ―Fuck,‖ says Ryan, and he‘s barely being touched, but he‘s so hot, so turned on, wishing he weren‘t in a house full of people. ―Don‘t call it a date,‖ Jayden continues. ―It‘s just dinner, you and me, getting to know each other. Come on,‖ he coaxes, popping the button on Ryan‘s jeans, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. ―Say yes. I‘ll make this so good for you.‖ Ryan bites his lip, hand straying to Jayden‘s thigh, nails against the denim. The back of his neck is burning, his chest, everything in him so tight, and Jayden‘s not even touched him yet. ―Do they do this to you?‖ Jayden hisses into his ear, pulling him tighter against his body. ―The guys you fuck—do they make you feel like this? Make you so hot and desperate? Because you know what I think?‖ He shoves his hand into Ryan‘s boxers proper, palms his dick, keeps going until he‘s got Ryan‘s balls in his grip, and squeezes. ―I don‘t think any of those guys can make you feel this good, even when you‘re coming, and I‘ve barely started.‖ Ryan closes his eyes and bites at Jayden‘s jaw, feels Jayden‘s groan through his back and his dick twitch against his ass. And then Jayden‘s purring words into his ear, a low, filthy rumble. ―Do you want to come, Ryan?‖ And Ryan snaps. ―Fuck, okay, I‘ll go out with you tomorrow—just please, God, do something.‖ ―Yeah,‖ says Jayden, and then he pulls Ryan‘s dick out of its confines, other hand disappearing up Ryan‘s shirt to tug on a nipple, while he pulls and jerks Ryan‘s dick so quickly, masterful flicks of his wrist, thumb catching on the slit. Ryan‘s so close already, thundering toward the edge. He sways forward, catches the

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edge of the counter, and holds on, hangs his head down, eyes on his dick, on what Jayden‘s doing to his dick, air caught in his lungs. When Jayden drags him up from the counter, flush against his body, and whispers, ―Come for me. I wanna feel it,‖ in Ryan‘s ear, it‘s all over. He shoots in body-jolting spurts, groans falling from his lips as he coats the counter before him, Jayden‘s hand. He has no inclination to protest when Jayden grabs his face and turns it, then ravages his mouth, sucks away his orgasm, and kisses him through the comedown. Ryan has no time to begin catching his breath before the door opens, right on cue. It‘s Frankie. ―Christ, son, my eyes,‖ he says, and then he‘s gone again, like he was never there. ―Fuck,‖ says Ryan. Because really. Jayden gives a breathy, tight laugh, and Ryan remembers he wasn‘t the only one all worked up back then. He pushes his ass back, feels the firm line of Jayden‘s cock, considers his next move. But Jayden says, ―Leave it,‖ and presses a kiss against Ryan‘s neck. ―This wasn‘t about me.‖ He removes his hand from Ryan‘s dick and steps back, gives Ryan a moment to tuck himself away. When he turns, he can‘t look Jayden in the eye. A few seconds pass. Then Jayden‘s fingers brush his cheek, and he almost, almost, leans into the touch. ―No changing your mind,‖ Jayden says. ―I‘ll pick you up at eight.‖ And when Ryan looks up, Jayden‘s gone.

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Chapter Six The most terrifying discovery made in this whole fiasco is that Olivia‘s some kind of evil genius. Who knew? Somehow Olivia gets wind of Ryan‘s ―appointment‖ at eight that evening. Ryan won‘t call it a date, because it‘s not a date, so appointment it is—as if Jayden‘s a doctor coming to check him over and feel him up and offer treatment. Hm. So Olivia‘s heard about it. Ryan suspects that‘s Jayden‘s doing, because those two are so working together to ruin his life. He hates her a little bit more each day. Instead of letting him stew in the panic and terror he was looking forward to— therefore blaming his inevitable bailing out on health concerns—she charges in all guns blazing to distract him. And, damn her to hell, it works. They go out for breakfast; they hunt down a kooky lamp for the end table. They go out to lunch, they visit all three of Ryan‘s favorite galleries, and they hang up some pictures. They clean the festering cesspool some might call the bathroom, they reorganize Olivia‘s work lingerie in order of sluttiness, they watch two episodes of Bridezillas, and they write Olivia‘s five-year plan, which mostly consists of find guy, make him awesome, marry him, with an idea of opening a dance school in year five tacked on like an afterthought. When he finally gets five minutes to catch his breath, he looks at his watch and sees it‘s seven forty-five, and Olivia is smirking and glowing in her evil-genius victory.

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―I‘m disowning you,‖ he says, trying to tamp down the burn of fear in his belly. ―Just so you know. I may even kill you, so you can‘t go on and destroy someone else.‖ ―Whatever. Go shower. You stink.‖ ―Maybe I want to stink. Maybe it‘s part of my plan.‖ ―Yeah. Maybe if you‘re lucky, Jayden might be overcome with the urge to strip you naked and shower you himself. Your Eau de Skeevy Bathroom is kinda—‖ ―Fine,‖ says Ryan. ―I‘m showering. But don‘t blame me if I decide to drown myself. It‘ll be all your fault. You killed me. Good luck sleeping at night.‖ ―Dude, I‘ll be too busy selling all your shit to worry about sleeping well. Besides, I‘ve got that ocean-song CD. Works every time.‖ ―Your concern warms me.‖ ―You know what would warm you? Jayden‘s dick in your ass.‖ Ryan gapes at her. ―You used to be a lady.‖ ―Baby,‖ she says, snorting, ―you found me eating trash off the street and offering blowjobs to sleazy old guys. I‘ve never been a lady.‖ ―If this is how you treat the people who helped you out, I‘d hate to think what you do to your enemies.‖ ―Flay them,‖ says Olivia, nodding. ―Blood sacrifices. Jon and Kate marathons. That kind of thing.‖ She smiles and adds, ―He‘s here,‖ in a creepy singsong tone. ―What? You can see through walls now?‖ ―No, through windows.‖ ―Fuck,‖ says Ryan, following her gaze. Jayden‘s pulled up in some fancy little compact thing that is almost certainly a rental, and currently he‘s sitting at the wheel, laughing at whoever he‘s talking to on the phone. ―He‘s early.‖ ―Of course he‘s early. Gives you less time to be a chickenshit.‖ ―Fuck,‖ Ryan repeats—because, well, fuck. This is happening.

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―Are you gonna go make yourself into a human, or do you want him to vomit through his greeting?‖ ―I kinda don‘t want to leave you alone with him. God knows what new insane plans you‘ll cook up together.‖ ―It‘s true,‖ says Olivia. ―After you submit, it‘s straight on to world domination.‖ Ryan rolls his eyes and walks away, heading toward the bathroom. ―Then it‘s a good thing I‘m not submitting to anything.‖ She snorts again. ―Honey, you‘re going on a date. You already submitted.‖ ―It‘s not a date!‖ he snaps, then slams the door. Christ.

*** ―So…‖ says Jayden, after they‘ve had at least a whole minute of awkward silence in the car. ―Had a good day?‖ Ryan shoots him a halfhearted glare. ―A busy day.‖ Jayden laughs. ―Olivia sent me a text saying something about keeping you distracted. Figured I‘d leave her to it.‖ ―Thanks for that, man. My day just wouldn‘t‘ve been complete without scrubbing out my toilet.‖ ―Nice,‖ says Jayden, wrinkling his nose. ―But I‘m glad you didn‘t freak out and bail on me.‖ ―Can‘t say the thought didn‘t cross my mind.‖ And when Jayden gives a wry smile, Ryan adds, ―How long do I have to stay for, anyway?‖ ―What?‖ says Jayden, frowning. ―Tonight. How long do I have to stick it out for?‖ Jayden looks at him. ―Are you serious?‖ Ryan shrugs, and Jayden looks back at the road, shoulders slumping. ―Christ, Ryan, you‘re not my prisoner. If the idea of hanging out with me is that terrible for you, then I‘ll turn around and take you home. Just let me get off this road.‖

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They fall into another silence, a silence now loaded with uncomfortable tension as opposed to the mild awkwardness of before. And when Ryan actually thinks about going home, he gets a weird itching feeling in the back of his mind, some kind of minibattle, and going out with Jayden doesn‘t actually feel like something he wants to kill himself over. Feels, in fact, kinda like something he might want to do, if honesty is the way forward, and really, what‘s the worst that can happen? He sighs. ―No, man, it‘s fine. Sorry. I‘m just… I‘m having a little trouble figuring all this shit out.‖ ―There‘s nothing to figure out,‖ Jayden says, voice quiet. ―It‘s just two friends hanging out. It‘s really not the epic event you seem to think it is.‖ ―I thought we couldn‘t do the whole ‗friend‘ thing?‖ Jayden‘s smile, when it returns, gives Ryan an odd little tingling in his spine that he instantly squashes. ―I like a challenge,‖ Jayden says. I’ve noticed. ―So where are we going?‖ ―You sure? I really don‘t have a problem with taking you home.‖ ―I thought you were, like, dying to get me alone.‖ Jayden snorts. ―Dude, you‘re not that hot.‖ ―I can show you a hundred guys who‘d disagree with you.‖ ―Only a hundred? And here I thought you were some kind of slut.‖ ―Not a slut,‖ says Ryan, mildly affronted even though it‘s a label he gives to himself on a regular basis. ―Just…active. I like sex.‖ ―Yeah,‖ says Jayden, turning a corner and keeping his eyes off Ryan. ―I remember.‖ Ryan‘s neck burns because he remembers too, remembers every fucking time he tries to go to sleep. ―See, this is why this won‘t work. Can‘t be friends with guys you‘ve fucked.‖

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―How about being friends with a guy you might‘ve fucked once, but won‘t be fucking again? That‘s gotta work, right? If there‘s a line drawn under it.‖ Ryan swallows. ―So you‘re really not aiming to get me in bed again?‖ ―You‘ve got a no-repeats policy, right?‖ Jayden says, something odd in his tone. ―I‘m gonna respect that.‖ ―You kinda suck at respecting it, what with the two times it‘s happened since.‖ The corner of Jayden‘s mouth turns up. ―Stupid lapse in judgment. Won‘t happen again.‖ ―Glad to hear it,‖ Ryan says, feeling like he‘s talking through sandpaper. ―Um. So, yeah, you gonna tell me where we‘re going?‖ ―Well, here‘s the thing,‖ says Jayden. ―I was planning on the whole fancy restaurant, expensive wine thing, but then I thought, what the fuck am I doing? This isn‘t a date. Besides, I figured it‘s not really your scene anyway, and I want you to have a good time. So we‘re going to my place.‖ ―Your place?‖ ―Yeah. We‘ll order food and watch crappy movies and get really drunk. It‘ll be fun.‖ ―We‘re getting drunk? How am I supposed to get home?‖ ―They‘re called cabs, Ryan. New invention.‖ ―Nice,‖ says Ryan, smiling despite himself. ―You‘re a real romantic.‖ ―What‘s romance got to do with anything?‖ Jayden asks, one eyebrow arching and a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Ryan stares at him, mind a party of confusing thoughts. ―You‘re like no one I‘ve ever met,‖ he says, because he‘s at least sure of that. ―I get that a lot,‖ says Jayden, and then, ―We‘re here.‖ It‘s the first time Ryan‘s seen it in the light, and it‘s a modest little apartment, he thinks when he gets inside, with only two doors leading off the lounge-slash-

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kitchen—one, he assumes, for the bathroom, and another for the bedroom. The bedroom, he remembers. ―You live alone?‖ ―Yeah. This is just a short-term lease while I think about the kind of home I really want.‖ The apartment‘s full of signs of being newly occupied: boxes stacked against the far wall, an empty bookcase, random bits of Bubble Wrap scattered around. ―You ever gonna unpack properly?‖ Jayden shrugs, hanging his jacket up beside the front door, then holds out his hand for Ryan‘s. ―Don‘t really see the point. I‘m only gonna be here for a couple months.‖ ―What kind of home you looking for? Rent‘s expensive down this way, so considering you‘ve not got a job, you probably won‘t end up with anything much different than this.‖ ―You‘re full of optimism,‖ Jayden says, laughing. ―Sit your ass down.‖ ―All right, but I‘m not done. I‘m gonna rain on your parade a bit more.‖ ―Looking forward to it. I‘ll just grab us a beer.‖ Ryan sits and stares at the wall while waiting for Jayden‘s return. There‘s fuck all else to look at. Jayden‘s made no effort to create a home out of this space, even a temporary one. Depressing, really. He must sit here every night, alone, without a thing to call comfort. ―Here you go,‖ says Jayden, pressing a cold beer into Ryan‘s hand. He sits beside him on the couch and lays upon him the full wattage of his attention. ―So let‘s hear more of your pessimistic opinions.‖ Ryan takes a sip of beer, weighing his words. ―Well,‖ he says, swiping his thumb over his bottom lip to clear a drop. Jayden‘s eyes track the movement, and in response, Ryan‘s stomach gives a little jolt. He clears his throat. ―You‘ve got no job, right? And I‘m guessing if you‘re living in this tiny place, you don‘t have a lot of

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money tucked away either.‖ He pauses, waits for Jayden to contradict him. He doesn‘t. ―Jobs are in short supply round here, man. I mean, do you think Olivia likes being a stripper?‖ ―It‘s not my place to question it,‖ Jayden says, tone evasive. ―And are you getting to a point anytime soon?‖ ―I just… I don‘t know what you left behind, but I don‘t think you‘re gonna find anything much better here. Do you even have a degree?‖ ―Nope,‖ says Jayden, raising the bottle to his lips. ―Dropped out of college.‖ ―Real smart, man.‖ ―Thanks,‖ says Jayden, and then, ―What is this? Do you suddenly give a shit?‖ Ryan considers his answer, plays with the label on his bottle. ―I guess I just don‘t understand you.‖ ―You don‘t need to.‖ ―I kinda do, seeing as you‘ve elbowed your way into my life. Besides,‖ he says, trying for a small smile to lighten the mood, ―you promised you‘d tell me anything.‖ The stare Jayden gives him is long, contemplative, his fingers drumming on the side of his bottle like a nervous twitch. Then, with a heavy sigh, he puts his bottle on the characterless coffee table and gets to his feet, crosses the room and opens a drawer. ―I was living in New York,‖ he murmurs as he rummages for something. ―For about eighteen months. Built myself a pretty decent life out there— I was doing theater work, made some friends. Then a couple months ago something happened, and it changed everything.‖ He comes back to the couch, sits down. Then, with a subtle degree of hesitation, he hands Ryan a small stack of papers. Ryan, far more curious than he‘d like to admit, puts his bottle beside Jayden‘s and looks at the papers. Looks at them for a long time, barely seeing anything except what‘s scrawled across the top of each one in thick black numbers.

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―These are, um…‖ He coughs, tries to clear a pathway for his voice. ―These are million-dollar properties.‖ ―Yeah.‖ Jayden‘s looking at Ryan‘s hands as if he can‘t meet his eyes, like he‘s fucking ashamed or scared or something. ―Turns out my grandfather made some pretty kick-ass investments in his time. None of us ever knew. I mean, yeah, we knew he had money; he paid for my education, until I had to drop out, and he helped my mom as much as he could. But we had no idea…‖ He stops, shaking his head in a bitter and painful kind of way. ―Anyway, he died a while ago.‖ ―Man,‖ says Ryan, making an aborted move to touch him. ―I‘m sorry.‖ Jayden smiles at that, a sad little smile. ―That‘s exactly it. That‘s why I‘m here. I was living my life in New York when I found out my grandfather died and left me all this fucking money. And no one said I’m sorry; no one even gave me a fucking hug. The first question on everyone‘s lips was, How much did you get? And you know, you really figure out who your real friends are in times like that. Turns out I didn‘t have any, just a bunch of people around me with dollar signs in their eyes.‖ Ryan doesn‘t know what to say, what angle to approach this from. Has no fucking idea why Jayden‘s even telling him any of this. ―Your friend here—Molly, is it?‖ ―Yeah,‖ says Jayden, some of the sadness washing away. ―She‘s great. Pretty much the best friend I ever had, so of course I‘m gonna run to her when things get tough.‖ He laughs, like he can‘t believe his own lameness. ―Your family?‖ Jayden shrugs. ―Things kinda fell apart when my mom died.‖ Well, fuck. ―Cancer,‖ Jayden continues, answering Ryan‘s silent question. ―That‘s why I dropped out of college. To help take care of her.‖

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―Christ,‖ says Ryan, feeling completely out of his element. ―I‘m sorry for being a dick about it back there.‖ ―You weren‘t to know.‖ ―Yeah, but…‖ Ryan sighs. ―Forget it,‖ says Jayden. ―Anything else you wanna know?‖ Well, ain’t that the fucking question? Ryan kinda fears that anything else he asks will lead to another revelation about a death in Jayden‘s family. He settles on nodding at the papers in his hand. ―Um…so these houses. You thinking of buying one?‖ ―Man, I dunno. My grandfather left me five million dollars—‖ ―Dude,‖ says Ryan, raising a hand. ―You didn‘t have to tell me that.‖ ―I know. Anyway. I‘m kinda thinking a home is the most important investment a man can make. I mean, that‘s your future right there. Whatever happens, you‘re sitting on money and security and a safety net.‖ ―True,‖ says Ryan. ―I guess.‖ ―So I figured if I was gonna spend any of the money, it should be on a good home. As for the rest… Well, I‘ve got no fucking clue. Thinking of maybe starting a business.‖ He picks up his beer, takes a sip. ―I just don‘t wanna waste it, you know? But I don‘t wanna waste my life either.‖ Ryan nods. ―So which one of these beasts caught your eye?‖ ―Honestly?‖ says Jayden. ―I don‘t really think I‘m a million-dollar-property kinda guy.‖ ―Yeah,‖ says Ryan, ―I don‘t really get that vibe off you.‖ He drops the papers on the table, grabs his beer, and sits back. Comfortable, relaxed. ―And you‘ve got no reason to rush into figuring anything else out. Just kick back, live a little. It‘s what I‘d do.‖

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Jayden‘s eyes brighten. ―Does living a little include eating an extra-extradouble-large pepperoni pizza? Because, dude, I‘m so hungry. I‘m this close to eating your arm.‖ ―Um, please don‘t,‖ says Ryan, tucking his arm in against himself as if Jayden might actually follow through on his warning. ―And I‘m gonna go out on a limb here and say you can‘t get pizzas that big.‖ ―Maybe if I flirt real nice on the phone, they‘ll make an exception.‖ ―Maybe. Or—here‘s an idea—you could just order two large pizzas.‖ ―Genius,‖ says Jayden. ―I knew there was a reason I fucked you.‖ Trying not to choke on his spit, Ryan says, ―You fucked me because I‘m irresistible.‖ ―Ugh. Arrogance is so unattractive.‖ Ryan whacks him around the head with the stack of million-dollar properties.

*** The thing about being friends with Jayden is it‘s really fucking painful—not in an emotional, bullshit way, but in a can-my-rock-hard-dick-press-any-more-againstmy-zipper way. Jayden‘s friendly, real fucking friendly; affection‘s gotta be second fucking nature to this guy, because it‘s like he doesn‘t even know he‘s doing it. And as for the teasing… It starts off slow. He eats like an animal, but he savors his food like it‘s sex, the moans and the expressions and the way his lips get all slick with grease, and he licks it off in a way he has to know drives Ryan crazy. Then there‘s the way he runs his fingers up and down his bottle as he talks, spreading the condensation, fingers wrapped right around it and rubbing like he‘s jerking it off all slow and gentle. Ryan fails to hear a lot of what he‘s saying during that display. After the food- and bottle-porn, it moves on to Jayden reaching up to fiddle with the blinds when it gets stuck; his shirt rides up, exposing smooth, tanned skin,

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the dip in his lower back, and it stretches across his shoulders, hard muscles bunching. He finds any reason to touch Ryan—a hand on his knee, his back, an impromptu wrestling match over the remote. They eventually settle on a film Ryan‘s not seen before, and if you asked him later, he wouldn‘t be able to give you its name, because he pays no fucking attention to it. Jayden sits next to him, shuffled up close, thigh against thigh. And he spreads his legs so wide Ryan‘s sure he could drive a truck up in there. The worst thing, though—the fucking agonizing thing—is the position causes Jayden‘s jeans to stretch tightly across his crotch, trapping him in, and Ryan can see everything. The line of his cock, the swell of his balls tucked beneath, the slight twitch when Johnny Depp comes on-screen. He wants to look away—because, hell, staring at a friend‘s package here—but he can‘t, and it gets him thinking. Or more precisely, remembering. Jayden knows how to use that cock. Jayden‘s really fucking good at using that cock to make Ryan moan. ―You all right, man?‖ Jayden mutters, nudging Ryan with his elbow. ―Yeah,‖ Ryan tries, tearing his eyes away. He clears his throat. ―Yeah, I‘m good.‖ Except, you know, he really fucking isn‘t. ―I‘m gonna grab another beer.‖ Ryan nods, watches him get up and leave, and after a second or two—during which he has a brief but spectacular war with himself—he takes a deep breath and follows. He finds Jayden bent over with his head in the fridge, and Ryan slides right up behind him and smoothes his palms over Jayden‘s hips. Jayden goes deathly still for an instant; then he rights himself, closes the fridge door, and waits. Ryan licks his lips. ―I‘m gonna fuck you,‖ he says, taking a step closer until he‘s flush against Jayden‘s back. ―Not because I think it‘s what you‘re after or that you‘re like every other guy. But because I want to, and I don‘t wanna fucking analyze it.‖

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―Ryan…‖ ―No,‖ says Ryan, his voice a ragged mess. ―Don‘t. Just…‖ He moves his hand around to cup Jayden‘s cock, runs his fingers up the full length of it. ―Please.‖ ―Christ,‖ says Jayden. ―Don‘t beg.‖ Then he turns and seizes Ryan‘s mouth in a deep, bruising kiss. The next few minutes pass in a blur of lust. They lose their clothes somewhere en route to the bedroom, exchanging rough kisses and frenzied groping as they find the bed and collapse on it. Then Jayden‘s on him, all fucking over him, kissing and licking and turning Ryan into a writhing, moaning wreck. They eventually manage to coordinate themselves enough to get things going, and it‘s not until Ryan‘s flat on his back with Jayden‘s cock in his ass that he comes back to himself and thinks, fuck, this is actually happening. He‘s fucking Jayden again. He doesn‘t get time to panic, because Jayden takes his cock in his hand and starts stroking, nice and easy, slowing his thrusts to match. And when their foreheads come together, breath exchanged between lips mere inches apart, eyes open and locked—it becomes less about fucking and more about feeling something deep down, something other than the onset of climax. Something that makes Ryan feel so good, so nervous, he doesn‘t even realize he‘s gonna come until it hits him, hard and long, his hips rising off the bed and Jayden‘s name spilling from his lips. ―Remember,‖ murmurs Jayden some minutes later, when they‘re lying beside each other on the bed, catching their breath, ―you‘re not allowed to analyze it.‖ But Ryan does analyze it. He‘s analyzing it when he falls asleep on Jayden‘s chest, and he analyzes it when he creeps out of Jayden‘s bed before dawn. He‘s analyzing it during his morning run, and he keeps analyzing it all through the day. He‘s still analyzing it when he sits alone in his room that evening, painting he doesn‘t fucking know what, analyzing it so much he‘s starting to get a fucking headache and just a little bit furious with the whole thing.

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Which is when Olivia comes in to check on him, wearing the brightest dress he‘s ever seen. It‘s so pink he thinks he should‘ve been warned so he could dig out his sunglasses. ―Christ,‖ he says, shielding his eyes. ―They can see you on the moon.‖ ―Shut up. This dress is fabulous, and you know it.‖ He raises an eyebrow. ―What‘s the occasion?‖ ―Got a date. Don’t even start. I don‘t wanna hear it.‖ ―Wasn‘t gonna say anything,‖ he says, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. ―Hmm.‖ She saunters toward him, making a show of examining his canvas. ―What‘re you working on? I‘ve barely seen you all day.‖ He shrugs, doesn‘t know how to answer. She sighs. ―I know what‘s happening here.‖ ―Yeah, you‘re trying to blind me.‖ ―With him, I mean, not my fabulous dress. With Jayden.‖ He freezes, tries not to show it. ―Do go on, Olivia. I‘m breathless with anticipation.‖ ―He‘s making you do something you‘re absolutely terrified of, and as a result, you‘re gonna shut him and everyone else out so you don‘t have to face it.‖ ―He‘s not doing anything.‖ ―He is, baby.‖ She puts a hand on his shoulder, rubs a little, and looks at him with a protective kind of intensity in her eyes. ―He‘s making you feel. Maybe not much, not yet. It‘s early days. But you‘re feeling something. You‘ve gotta face it.‖ Ryan swallows, shrugs her hand off. ―I don‘t have to face anything,‖ he says, getting to his feet and taking a step away. ―So you‘re gonna throw it away?‖ ―There‘s nothing to throw away. He‘s just some guy I fucked a few times.‖

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―Exactly. That, right there, says it all. You broke your rule for this guy. A rule you‘ve had in place for years.‖ ―So?‖ ―You can‘t deny a connection like that. Ever heard of love at first sight?‖ ―Oh, fuck you if you‘re gonna start pulling that shit out your ass.‖ ―I‘m not. Okay? I‘m not saying that‘s what this is. I don‘t even believe love at first sight exists. But there‘s something a hell of a lot like it out there, and it‘s called finding something worth taking a risk on. Finding it and feeling it and holding the fuck on to it.‖ ―What do you want me to say, Liv? That I‘m in love with the guy? Because I‘m not. Not even close.‖ ―I know, baby. And I‘m sure for him this is nothing more than finding a guy he kinda likes and wanting to know where it could go. I‘m not saying what you‘ve got with him is serious, Ryan, because it‘s not. It‘s too new. But fuck, baby, you have to see it. You have to see that it‘s something.‖ Ryan‘s chest tightens, and he forces consideration of it away, does his best to crush it and destroy it and stop it from growing. ―We‘re done here,‖ he almost snarls, heading toward the door. ―Baby?‖ He stops, heaves a breath. ―What?‖ ―You can‘t hide behind your past forever.‖ And Ryan snaps. ―Fuck you. I didn‘t ask for your cheap psychology bullshit.‖ ―Fine,‖ she says, eyes hardening. ―Keep screwing yourself over.‖ ―How about I go out and screw someone else over?‖ ―Oh, baby,‖ she says, her tone so sad it hurts. ―Don‘t.‖ ―Fuck off, Olivia. I live my life the way I want to, and not you or any man or any fucking feeling is gonna stop that. We clear?‖ ―Sure, Ryan, we‘re clear. Whatever makes you happy.‖

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―What‘s gonna make me happy right now is getting my dick sucked by a guy who‘s not got everyone fooled into thinking he‘s some kinda superhero sent in to cure me of my traumas. I just want everything fucking normal again. I can‘t do this shit.‖ ―Then what the fuck are you waiting for?‖ she says, raising her voice. ―Go! Get laid. Don‘t come crying to me when you realize what an epic bastard of an asshole you are.‖ Ryan sneers at her, tries to pack all his derision into that one expression. ―Thanks for the advice, Olivia.‖ ―Go fuck yourself, you little cunt.‖ ―No need to. Plenty of willing providers.‖ She shakes her head, stares at him as though she can‘t believe what she‘s seeing. ―You don‘t even know how screwed you are.‖ Ryan leaves. He doesn‘t even slam the door.

*** It‘s a mistake. Such a huge mistake. He‘s fucking this guy—this random fucking nobody—and he knows he‘s never gonna come, that he‘s not feeling it, that his mind‘s too full of confusion and torment to think any of this is worth his time. And when his phone rings, and he sees the name on the screen, everything freezes, goes cold, and he‘s shoving the guy away before he can consider the alternative. ―What the fuck?‖ the guy grumbles, settling back on the pillows. He‘s rock hard, leaking at the head, and he wastes no time grabbing it and stroking. Seems at least one of them‘s gonna come tonight. ―Just keep your mouth shut for a minute,‖ Ryan says, grabbing his phone. ―Hey, Jayden…‖ ―Hey. I was just calling to ask if—‖

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Right on cue, this random fucking nobody, who doesn‘t mean a fucking thing, lets out a long, deep moan, his face a picture of sin as he keeps jerking off. In that moment, with Jayden breathing into his ear and this guy making it so fucking obvious what‘s going on, Ryan kinda feels like he‘s drowning. It takes Jayden a few seconds to speak again. ―Are you with someone?‖ Ryan squeezes his eyes shut, says nothing. ―Already?‖ Jayden continues, in a voice smaller than Ryan thinks should be possible from a man so big. Then Jayden sighs. ―Okay, sorry. I‘ll let you get back to it. But, Ryan?‖ Ryan‘s breath catches in his chest, his body running cold at the wavering note in Jayden‘s tone. ―Yeah?‖ ―I‘m done.‖ ―What?‖ ―I‘m done,‖ Jayden repeats simply. There‘s a heaviness in Ryan, an unpleasant coil, something icy sneaking up his spine. The guy on the bed in front of him might as well not exist. ―Jayden…‖ ―I like you, Ryan. I really do. But I‘m not desperate. And I just… I can‘t do this. I‘m not that guy—the guy who sits around and waits for the man he‘s seeing to stop fucking around. I get that you‘re in some kind of emotional crisis, that I was asking a lot of you, but…I kinda think I‘m worth more than this, you know? And there‘s only so much chasing I can do for a guy who‘s clearly not all that interested. So…‖ He sucks in a breath, the sound of it going straight to Ryan‘s gut. ―Take care, okay? I guess I‘ll see you around.‖ There‘s a long pause, and Ryan scrabbles desperately for something, anything, to say, a string of words that will make Jayden stay on the phone and quit saying shit like this. Then Jayden speaks again, and Ryan‘s rendered speechless. ―I don‘t know what it is you‘re looking for, Ryan, but I hope you find it. Obviously it wasn‘t me,

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but…there‘s a guy out there somewhere who you‘ll let yourself be happy with. I know it. I just hope you let that guard down some day.‖ Then the phone runs dead, and Ryan feels the silence like a sledgehammer to his carefully constructed denial.

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Chapter Seven TO: Jayden we can talk about this FROM: Jayden i don’t really see the point TO: Jayden you’re giving up on me already? FROM: Jayden backing out while it’s still easy TO: Jayden you said we had something FROM: Jayden u didn’t think so TO: Jayden it’s not like that. i’m complicated FROM: Jayden i’m not looking to change u. take care of urself x

*** Ryan doesn‘t see Olivia until the following afternoon, when she‘s getting ready to go to work. He surfaces from his room and trudges to her bedroom, knocks once and opens. She glances at him through the mirror, busy trying to clasp a necklace.

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When he does nothing but stand in the doorway and look at her, she huffs and says, ―You just gonna be a creepy lurker, or are you gonna help a lady out?‖ He offers a smile, which she doesn‘t return, and crosses the room to stand beside her, takes the necklace from her hands. ―You look nice,‖ he says, looping the necklace around her neck. ―Stripper chic. It‘s in this season.‖ Necklace in place, he stands back, and she rounds on him with a tired expression on her face, like he sucks out all her energy. The thought makes him wince. ―What d‘you want?‖ ―Just came to see if you were ready for work.‖ He shoves his hands into his pockets, looks at his shoes. ―And to apologize.‖ She‘s not paying him any attention when he looks up, focused on smoothing her hair and tucking it into place. But her mouth‘s set in a firm line, her jaw tensed, and he knows he‘s only got one shot at making it better. ―I shouldn‘t have gone off at you like that. None of this is your fault. It‘s just…things got so complicated. My head was a mess; didn‘t know what the fuck I was thinking from one minute to the next. And you were saying everything I didn‘t want to hear. But you didn‘t deserve any of it. I wasn‘t angry at you, just at the situation, and I‘m…I‘m sorry.‖ ―Complicated,‖ she says. ―You said it yourself; it was just a couple of fucks. The hell is complicated about that?‖ ―It is me we‘re talking about here,‖ he says. ―And it is complicated. I couldn‘t just find a guy I think is kinda hot. No, I had to get involved with someone who pretty much owned me from the minute I saw him.‖ He sighs, rubs his forehead. ―I can‘t even explain it. But it‘s just. Jayden—he…he gets in, you know? Under my skin. There‘s like this intense connection I can‘t even begin to describe, and I‘ve known him for the whole of five minutes, but it‘s like he‘s ripped the world out from under my feet.‖

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She stares at him, her whole body completely still. Then she says, in a soft, serious voice, ―Maybe I was wrong. Maybe love at first sight does exist.‖ This time, the words don‘t make him angry. They do nothing but make him feel hollow. ―I‘m not in love with him,‖ he says, shaking his head. ―I don‘t know him enough. But I…‖ ―But it could happen,‖ she finishes for him. ―You felt something you knew would grow, and you got scared.‖ ―Yeah,‖ he says simply. She kinda hit the nail on the head. Everything he‘s been feeling, all the confusion and pain, she‘s summed it up so perfectly it‘s almost worth laughing over. ―Then you‘ve got a decision to make.‖ ―It‘s too late,‖ he says, the words bitter on his tongue. ―He doesn‘t want anything else to do with me.‖ ―Why? What happened?‖ ―He knows I was with someone else last night.‖ She looks at him for a long moment. ―Gotta say, baby, I think I‘m on his side.‖ He smiles. ―Knew you would be.‖ ―So what now?‖ ―Just leave it, I guess,‖ he says, shrugging. ―He‘s kinda taken it out of my hands.‖ ―No, Ryan, you did that. When you left his bed in the morning and got in someone else‘s a few hours later.‖ ―All right, Olivia. No need to rub it in.‖ ―You deserve it,‖ she says. Then she sighs. ―Look, baby, it‘s not like he‘s suddenly my best friend. He‘s a nice guy and he makes me laugh, but I‘m not falling over myself to defend him. What I‘m seeing is a guy I love to death tearing himself up, letting past issues get in the way of making a go at happiness, and it hurts, Ryan. I can‘t watch it.‖ She pauses, takes his hand. ―So the way I see it, you‘ve got

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two choices. Either you walk away and carry on fucking yourself over, or you face it.‖ He looks into her face, her beautiful face, and swallows past a lump in his throat. ―How?‖ ―Explain to him why you‘re like this, why emotion is such an alien thing to you. Tell him you‘re feeling something, but you don‘t understand it, and it‘s your natural instinct to shut it away. Just talk to him. Make him understand. Then maybe he might be a little more patient with you.‖ ―He‘s got no reason to be,‖ he says. ―I‘m no one to him.‖ ―Maybe. Maybe not. It can‘t hurt to try. And if it doesn‘t work, then you‘re back where you started. Back to normal, like you say. No big deal.‖ ―This is crazy, right? I mean. What the fuck is all this? He‘s just some random guy.‖ ―No, baby, he‘s not.‖ She pulls him into a hug, hand going to thread through his hair. ―This one‘s kinda special.‖ Yeah. And Ryan closes his eyes.

*** TO: Jayden will you stop by my work tonight? FROM: Jayden got plans with Molly TO: Jayden tomorrow, then? FROM: Jayden what for? TO: Jayden you deserve an explanation

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FROM: Jayden i don’t need one TO: Jayden i need you to hear it FROM: Jayden ok. be there around 10pm tomorrow TO: Jayden thanks

*** Ryan‘s bored. Not a lot of guys feel the need to stare at naked women in the middle of the week, and the bar‘s barely half full. He‘s not had the chance to throw anyone out yet. He needs it—needs to release some frustration, take it out on someone who isn‘t his best friend. He parks himself at the bar with a heavy sigh, half turns to keep his eye on the customers, motions for Frankie to bring him a beer. ―Dead tonight,‖ Frankie says, putting a bottle in front of him. ―Yeah. We need to make rent next week, and we‘re kinda relying on Olivia‘s tips, but…‖ He sighs again, takes a big gulp of beer. ―Thinking about maybe getting a second job.‖ ―You could sell some of those paintings.‖ Ryan snorts. ―Like I‘ve made anything someone would put value on.‖ ―I dunno, son. I‘ve seen your shit. You‘re pretty good.‖ ―You know fuck all about art.‖ ―I know a good painting when I see it.‖ ―Sure you do.‖ ―Easy, now. I‘m not Olivia. I won‘t be taking your shit.‖

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Ryan winces. ―She told you about that?‖ ―Girl told me everything. And you‘re a dick.‖ ―Thanks, man,‖ says Ryan, tipping the bottle at him. ―Can always count on you for brutal honesty.‖ ―You want some more honesty, Ryan?‖ ―Not really.‖ ―You‘re gettin‘ it,‖ Frankie says, leveling a hard stare at him. ―That boy of yours got any sense, he‘d keep the fuck away. You‘re not worth it.‖ ―Um…‖ says Ryan, feeling like he‘s been punched in the gut. Frankie leans over the bar, brings his face closer to Ryan‘s, dips his voice low. ―Because you don‘t think you‘re worth it. And until you sort your own shit out, you got no place draggin‘ anyone else down with you.‖ He rights himself, grabs a dishcloth, raises an eyebrow. ―You know what I‘m sayin‘?‖ ―Yeah,‖ says Ryan. Of course he does. ―But, man…‖ He shakes his head. ―I don‘t even know what I wanna say. I just…‖ ―Forget it for now,‖ Frankie says. ―Here comes your girl.‖ Olivia‘s not alone. She‘s got some guy by the hand, a guy in an expensive suit, dark hair, with teeth so white they almost shine. Kinda hot, if you go for the spends-two-hours-getting-ready kind. Which, apparently, Olivia does, because this guy doesn‘t look like a customer, and Olivia looks real happy to have him with her. ―Hey,‖ she says, stopping beside Ryan. She‘s practically fucking glowing. A customer at the other end of the bar calls for Frankie‘s attention. He ignores him, watches Olivia. ―Who‘s your friend?‖ ―This is Andrew,‖ she says, smiling up at her guest. ―My date from last night. Andrew, this is Ryan, my roommate, and this is Frankie, my…uh, Frankie.‖ ―How‘s it going?‖ Andrew says, nodding at them both. Then he looks at Olivia and says, in a voice Ryan assumes is supposed to be quiet but really isn‘t, ―You live with a guy?‖

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She gives an awkward smile, gaze darting to Ryan, then back to Andrew. ―He‘s gay.‖ Ryan rolls his eyes. ―Oh,‖ says Andrew. His gaze flits over Ryan, taking everything in, but there‘s no interest in it. More like he‘s trying to work out Ryan‘s species. ―That‘s cool.‖ ―You saying if he was straight, it wouldn‘t be?‖ asks Frankie, eyebrows drawn in. Andrew raises his hand. ―Not saying anything, man. But I like this girl,‖ he says, looping an arm around her neck. She grins. ―I‘d hate for there to be complications already.‖ ―One date, son,‖ Frankie says. ―You‘ve been on one date.‖ ―Actually,‖ Olivia says, turning to Ryan, ―that‘s what I came to tell you, baby. I won‘t be coming back with you tonight. Andrew‘s sticking around until I finish. Then we‘re gonna head out.‖ ―But you‘re on till two.‖ ―I spoke to Mike,‖ she says. ―He‘s letting me off at eleven.‖ ―Uh. Right… You sure you‘ll be okay?‖ Andrew smiles, flashing his perfect teeth. ―She‘ll be fine. I‘ll take of her.‖ ―See that you do,‖ Frankie says gruffly, throwing his dishcloth on the bar, then heading off to deal with the guy still hollering for his attention. Andrew frowns. ―What‘s up with him?‖ ―He‘s in love with Olivia,‖ Ryan says, reaching for his bottle. Olivia laughs, a sharp edge to it. ―Hilarious, baby, really. Come on, Andrew. Let‘s find you a good table to watch the show. I‘m onstage in ten.‖ Ryan watches them leave, hears Andrew mutter, ―You call him baby?‖ ―Don‘t like him,‖ says a perky voice by his side. He turns, finds Sophie standing there. ―Not getting a good vibe.‖

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―Yeah, well.‖ Ryan rubs his jaw, turns back to the bar. ―It‘s her life.‖ She hovers for a minute, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. Ryan raises an eyebrow at her. ―Is Frankie really in love with her?‖ she blurts out, her cheeks flushing scarlet. Ryan snorts. ―Frankie won‘t hit on any of his girls at work, including Olivia.‖ ―That doesn‘t really answer my question.‖ ―Shouldn‘t you be getting ready for your performance with Olivia?‖ ―I swear to God,‖ she huffs, tugging on a strand of hair. ―I‘ve never met a group of people who have so much trouble owning up to shit.‖ ―It‘s called dysfunction,‖ he says. ―And it kinda works for us.‖ ―It‘s like you‘re all in this little bubble, and the rest of us are looking in. What do I have to do? Invent a childhood trauma so I can have issues and be one of the fucked-up brigade?‖ He squints at her. ―The fuck‘s got into you?‖ She steps closer, drops her voice. ―I have to sit there and listen to Olivia go on and on about the shitty men she dates, your problems with Jayden, ‗Frankie this‘ and ‗Frankie that,‘ and Jesus Christ, it‘s so much drama. How the hell are you not killing each other?‖ ―Um…‖ says Ryan, ―have you taken something?‖ ―Whatever,‖ she says. ―I need to get ready.‖ Her gaze lingers on Frankie, who is busy serving at the other end, and her face clouds over. Ryan takes pity on her, reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear. ―You‘re a nice girl,‖ he says, ―when you‘re not being crazy. But you‘re wasting your time. If Frankie ever breaks his rule… Well, it won‘t be for you.‖ She looks up at him, eyes dark with sadness. ―That night he took me home, we stayed up for hours. Sat in front of my fire and talked. Just talking, you know? But we connected. We really did. He was so interested, wanted to know everything about me. But now…‖

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Ryan smiles, a smile he hopes conveys some kind of warmth. ―That‘s Frankie,‖ he says. ―He‘s nice to his girls.‖ ―No.‖ She shakes her head, eyes filling with moisture. ―It‘s more than that. I know he feels it too.‖ ―Look—‖ ―Everything all right here?‖ says Frankie, appearing before them. ―Christ, Ryan, what‘ve you done to her? She‘s traumatized.‖ ―Nothing,‖ Sophie says. She gives an awkward little laugh, pastes on a wobbly smile. ―He hasn‘t done anything. Uh, I need to go get ready.‖ ―Seriously,‖ says Frankie, after Sophie‘s gone, ―are you on a mission to make everyone hate you this week?‖ ―Me?‖ Ryan downs the rest of his beer, gets to his feet. ―And you call me a dick.‖ Then he heads off, smirking at the confused expression he leaves on Frankie‘s face. Still, tomorrow… Things‘ll be better tomorrow night after he talks with Jayden.

*** Ryan likes Starbucks when it‘s quiet, gets to take his time choosing what he wants, experiment a little, not worry about having to elbow his way into a queue and shout his order at an overworked kid with pimples. Except the guy standing behind the counter doesn‘t have pimples. He has, in fact, perfectly smooth skin, all golden tan, and dark hair that falls into his heavylidded eyes. Ryan gives his order, smiles a little when the guy doesn‘t look away, fishes for money in his pocket, and looks up to find those eyes deep and blown. ―Thanks,‖ he says, taking his cup.

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The guy makes sure their fingers brush, says, ―You‘re welcome,‖ in words coated with honey, drinks Ryan in from his head to his feet and back to his eyes. Ryan gets a little warm, a little dry in his mouth, says, ―What‘s your name?‖ before he can stop himself. ―Ben,‖ says the guy, and then, ―I get off in an hour.‖ ―Hmm,‖ says Ryan, and their eyes lock for a long, long moment. Then his phone vibrates against his leg. He fishes it out, sees the name on the screen, a smile growing on his face that has nothing to with the man before him at all. ―Well, nice to meet you, Ben.‖ Ben blinks. ―What? I thought we were—‖ ―I‘m trying this new thing,‖ Ryan says, looking back down at his phone, at the word Jayden. ―It‘s called making the right choices.‖ He leaves Ben, goes out into the street, lets the sunlight fill him up. Opens the text message and feels everything go cold and dry and blank.

FROM: Jayden can’t make it tonight. something’s come up And in that moment Ryan learns, quickly, that when Jayden says he‘s done, he‘s really fucking done. He loses time walking the streets, and the coffee goes cold in his hand.

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Chapter Eight He spends the whole night at work hoping Jayden will change his mind, that whatever came up can be put off, and he‘ll walk through the door, search Ryan out, and smile when he sees him. But he doesn‘t, and Ryan goes home alone, Olivia having taken off to experience more romantic bliss with weird Andrew. The following day, with Olivia absent, Ryan doesn‘t have much to do but think. And think. And think some more. Which is what finds him driving into Jayden‘s street that evening, going slowly, not quite sure what he‘s doing, but knowing he has to do something. He draws his car up near Jayden‘s building, but someone beats him to it. A car stopping right in front. A cute guy with short blond hair climbs out. Ryan waits, a sinking feeling in his gut, and when Jayden comes out and meets the guy, face all warm smiles, and leans down to fucking kiss him, it‘s like someone‘s looped a noose around Ryan‘s neck and pulled. They walk to the blond guy‘s car together, laughing about something, and right before Jayden gets in, he turns, catches Ryan‘s eye, not an ounce of surprise on his face—as if he knew Ryan was there all along. They spend an eternity just looking at each other. Jayden‘s eyes are so unreadable in the darkness, so masked and guarded, and it makes Ryan want to scrabble out of his car and run to him, ask him to forget this guy, to stay. But Jayden doesn‘t stay. He gets into the car, and a few seconds later he‘s gone. Ryan pulls out his phone, hits speed dial #1. ―He‘s seeing someone else.‖

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―What?‖ says Olivia. There‘s music around her, the rough, low beats of a live band. ―Hang on.‖ When the background noise dims, Ryan says, ―He‘s seeing someone else. He‘s already with another guy.‖ The words taste like broken glass. ―After just four days?‖ Olivia says. ―Fuck, that‘s quick. I mean, you waited at least twelve hours.‖ ―Fuck you,‖ he says, because he‘s got no fucking idea how else to express what he‘s feeling. ―Go home,‖ she says. ―Get drunk. We‘ll talk about this in the morning.‖ ―Can‘t you come home?‖ he says, the noose getting tighter. ―I kinda need you.‖ ―Oh, baby.‖ There‘s sadness in her tone, a little desperation. ―Andrew got us tickets for this gig, and he‘s kinda… Look, I‘ll see what I can do, but—‖ ―It‘s fine.‖ He clears his throat, tries to keep his voice even, to not show his disappointment and the spark of anger. ―Enjoy yourself. I‘ll see you in the morning.‖ ―You sure? I mean, maybe if I tell him I feel sick or something…‖ ―Christ, Olivia, if you have to lie to him—‖ ―Don‘t start, Ryan.‖ ―I don‘t like this guy.‖ ―You don‘t have to,‖ she says, her tone hard. ―See you tomorrow.‖

*** When Olivia stumbles in at noon the next day, the first words out of Ryan‘s mouth are, ―He finally gave you permission to leave?‖ She gives him a cold glare, says nothing, busies herself with hanging up her coat and making some coffee. After she‘s drunk half a cup, she sits on the couch beside him and says, ―Okay, spill.‖ He shrugs. ―Nothing to say. I went to see him, but he was heading out with some other guy.‖

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―Maybe he‘s just a friend.‖ ―They kissed.‖ ―Oh.‖ She takes another sip of coffee, hands wrapped right around her mug, gaze sliding from him to the floor, looking thoughtful. ―I have a plan.‖ He quirks an eyebrow. ―A plan?‖ ―To get him back.‖ ―I never had him to start with.‖ ―All right,‖ she says. ―For you to get him alone, then. So you can talk.‖ He shakes his head. ―It‘s not worth it. He‘s seeing someone else—‖ ―It‘s been a few days, baby. It can‘t be that serious.‖ ―You didn‘t think that when it was me and him.‖ ―That‘s different,‖ she says. ―You guys had one of those once-in-a-lifetime special connections.‖ ―I wouldn‘t go that far.‖ ―Whatever,‖ she says, waving a hand. ―Anyway, this plan.‖ ―No.‖ He sighs. ―Say I do get him alone, and I manage to explain why I‘m so fucked-up—then what? He says okay, let‘s work it out? How am I supposed to change, just like that? I don‘t even know if I can.‖ He pauses. ―Or if I want to.‖ She groans, flops back into the couch. ―I really am gonna kill you one day.‖ She glares at him, blows hair off her face. ―Will you just make your mind up? One minute you don‘t wanna get involved. Then you act like your dog got killed when he dumps your ass. So I try to help you out, and now you‘re saying you‘re not even sure it‘s what you want? Christ.‖ ―Dude,‖ he says. ―Calm down.‖ ―You‘re driving me crazy. Look,‖ she says, sitting straight again, ―forget about what it all means, all the shit you‘re gonna have to deal with, and answer me this one question: do you want this guy?‖

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He hesitates, the lump forming in his throat threatening to steal his words. Then he says, in a voice quiet but sure, ―Yes. I do.‖ ―Then work for it,‖ she says, ―and worry about everything else later.‖ He slumps back, head bouncing off the couch cushion, a vague headache throbbing behind his eyes. ―Fuck, Liv.‖ ―I know.‖ She puts a hand on his thigh and squeezes a little. ―If it works out, you‘re gonna have to rethink everything you thought you knew about yourself. It‘s probably gonna fuck you up worse than you are now, and only you can decide if it‘s worth it. The good news is,‖ she says, brightening, ―if you guys can get together and it doesn’t work, you can back out before it gets too serious. You can just try it. And if it turns out he farts in bed or murders puppies, then at least you won‘t spend your whole life wondering.‖ He blinks. ―Wondering if he farts in bed? He doesn‘t.‖ ―If it was ever worth a fight, you dick.‖ She smiles to soften her words. ―Now do you wanna hear my plan or not?‖ ―Yes. Definitely.‖ He sits forward. ―Astound me.‖ ―It‘s simple,‖ she says, ―but effective.‖ She pauses, perhaps for dramatic effect, then says, ―Movie night.‖ He stares at her. ―Movie night.‖ ―Yeah. It‘s brilliant! Listen, we invite the guys over, and when I invite Jayden, I‘ll make sure he knows it‘s not just us three—that‘s he‘s not being set up. It‘s just movie night, he‘ll think, hanging out with the guys. What‘s the worst that can happen? And then, baby, when he‘s all happy and relaxed and having a good time, you make your move. He won‘t see it coming.‖ ―That,‖ says Ryan, ―is the worst plan ever.‖ She scowls. ―You got any better ideas?‖ Ryan has to admit he doesn‘t. He‘s got nothing even close. Movie night it is.

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*** ―Bad news,‖ Olivia says, an hour later. ―He‘s bringing that guy he‘s seeing.‖ ―Call it off,‖ Ryan says, panic and dread filling him. ―Cancel everything.‖ ―No. It‘s a challenge.‖ Then she walks away and leaves him to stew.

*** Jayden‘s new guy is called James, and he‘s so fucking perfect it‘s disgusting. ―My God, you‘re beautiful,‖ he says to Olivia when she introduces herself, the expression on his face saying he really fucking means it. Olivia tries to brush it off as he goes on about the perfect color of her hair, her gorgeous eyes. She shoots nervous glances at Ryan, but he can tell she‘s falling in love with James a little bit. Ryan can‘t even hate her for it. Then Jayden—who hasn‘t even looked at Ryan yet—puts his hand on the small of James‘s back and leads him farther into the room to meet Frankie and Sophie. With a few words about music he likes, the pretty bracelet on Sophie‘s wrist, they stop regarding James with hostile glares, and within minutes, they‘re smiling, welcoming. And Jayden still won‘t look at Ryan. So Ryan does the job for them both, watches Jayden all night, watches everything he does, watches every time he lays a hand on James‘s thigh, watches the way his eyes light up when James says something that makes everyone laugh. It doesn‘t take long for Olivia to start looking at Ryan with pity in her expression. Ryan snaps, gets up to put the film on, switches the light off, turns around, and surveys the room. Frankie is in the armchair; Sophie‘s on the floor by the coffee table; and James, Jayden, and Olivia are on the couch.

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What the hell. Without thinking about how bad it could all go wrong, Ryan leans over Olivia and mutters something in her ear. Her eyes widen; she catches her bottom lip between her teeth. Then, after a moment of hesitation, she nods. Satisfied, Ryan settles down on the floor in front of Frankie, leans his back against Frankie‘s leg, and waits out the first twenty minutes of the film. ―Um,‖ Olivia eventually says, and Ryan smiles to himself. ―I need to pee. Come and keep my seat warm, baby.‖ Then she‘s up and out before her nerves can take hold, and Jayden‘s looking at him with panic in his eyes. But Ryan doesn‘t care, because it at least means Jayden‘s finally paying him some fucking attention. He gets up at his leisure, stretching his back, saunters over to the couch, and offers Jayden a small smile. Jayden‘s wide eyes say it all: basically, What the fuck are you doing? Because he‘s not stupid, Ryan didn‘t think he was, but there‘s not much he can do about it if he doesn‘t want to make a scene, and Ryan sits with a contented little sigh, shuffles until his thigh‘s spread all along Jayden‘s, knee to hip. Jayden goes deathly still. Ryan isn‘t even sure he‘s breathing. ―You okay, Jayden?‖ James asks from the other side, sounding tired and weak. Jayden speaks through clenched teeth. ―Fine.‖ Olivia comes back, carefully avoids looking at Jayden, but Jayden visibly relaxes anyway, body sagging in relief. ―You gonna come keep me company again, Liv?‖ he says, the hopeful note in his tone almost endearing. ―Oh, it‘s okay,‖ she says. ―Ryan looks too comfortable.‖ Jayden glares at her, hot and dark, but she pays him no attention. ―Besides,‖ she says, ―I‘ve got a good seat right here.‖ Then she plonks down on Frankie‘s lap.

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Frankie looks so startled it‘s like someone‘s electrocuted him, hands drawing back as if he‘s afraid to touch her. But when she settles against him, curls into his body, he relaxes, face smoothing out, and wraps his arms around her waist. Sophie looks as though she might cry. But Ryan disregards the whole silent drama in favor of slowly but methodically driving Jayden insane. He picks a song in his head, finds the beat, subtle little bounces of his leg to match it—rub, rub, rub against Jayden‘s thigh, jeans against jeans, a kind of friction growing between them that has nothing to do with material. Jayden doesn‘t move to stop him, doesn‘t do anything except stare straight ahead, throat working against dry swallows, and Ryan knows he‘s as hyperaware of their contact as he is. After a few minutes, Jayden‘s hand comes down on Ryan‘s thigh so suddenly he startles, putting an end to his movement. Jayden‘s hand stays there for longer than it should, squeezing, a kind of pressure like he can‘t quite tear himself away. Ryan risks a glance past Jayden, wondering how the hell James can‘t see this going on, but James is asleep, head lolling back against the couch, and it‘s the most amazing thing Ryan‘s ever seen. It doesn‘t even bother him when Jayden removes his hand. He decides to forget the rest of his plans to get Jayden worked up, twists in his seat to drape one arm behind Jayden‘s shoulders, and leans in until the tip of his nose brushes Jayden‘s cheekbone. Jayden doesn‘t lean away, which is a good sign, but he doesn‘t look happy. So Ryan whispers, ―Follow me; we need to talk,‖ and hopes for the best. He gets up, leaves the room, feels Olivia‘s worried gaze on him like burning. He goes to his bedroom rather than the kitchen, seeking a little privacy, and a minute later Jayden‘s there, standing in his doorway, face caught somewhere between panic and anger. And maybe—maybe—a little bit of lust. ―It‘s okay,‖ Ryan mutters, aware of their guests a short distance away. ―You can come in. I just want to talk.‖

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Jayden heaves a sigh, crosses the threshold, saying, ―What the hell did you think you were doing out there?‖ Ryan closes the door, locks it, turns to look at Jayden, and tries to speak but can‘t—his voice stolen. Jayden‘s so worked up, so annoyed, skin flushed and chest expanding with deep breaths, eyes dark and intense. ―Christ, you‘re beautiful,‖ Ryan says instead, the words coming unbidden, and he knew it before, couldn‘t get away from it, but it‘s so much more obvious now— now it‘s not his, now he can‘t just take it for himself. Jayden falters in whatever remark he was going to make, skin burning darker, so much heat pouring off him it‘s enough to make Ryan lose his breath. ―Don‘t do this to me,‖ Jayden says, and his eyes are so deep, so gorgeous. ―I can‘t take this from you.‖ ―I‘m sorry,‖ Ryan says, but he doesn‘t mean it. How can he ever be sorry for wanting to touch this man, for finding him so beautiful? Fuck, Ryan just wants to get his hands on him, to show him what he can offer, what he‘s feeling—if Jayden would just let him, find a little patience and take what little Ryan‘s able to give. ―You wanted to talk,‖ Jayden says, wetting his lips, digging his fingernails into his own palms like he‘s only just managing to keep it together himself. The thought goes straight to Ryan‘s cock, and his stomach clenches, his chest constricting. He‘s got words, things he needs to say, explanations—all those things Jayden needs to know if they‘re ever gonna have a chance. But, Christ, he‘s just standing there looking like all the wrong kinds of sin, lips wet, skin radiating so much heat it burns Ryan right through to the bone. He‘s on Jayden before he can question himself, one hand tangling in Jayden‘s hair, the other grabbing shirt and scraping skin—seeking Jayden‘s mouth and groaning in frustration when Jayden rears his head away, stumbles back, sucking a breath through his teeth as his back meets the wall. ―Ryan, no—‖ Jayden says, but he doesn‘t sound sure, a tiny hitch of something, and it‘s enough for Ryan, just enough.

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―You want this,‖ Ryan hisses, scraping his teeth against the warm skin of Jayden‘s neck. ―Don‘t deny it. Don‘t deny me, Jayden. Come on.‖ He gets the belt open, the buttons popped, and Jayden does nothing but press himself flush against the wall, face tilted up, hands balled into fists by his sides as he looks for all the world like a guy who needs, really fucking needs, but can‘t have. And when Ryan gets his hand in Jayden‘s boxers—doesn‘t even hesitate, just grabs his dick and starts working it like the fucking world‘s gonna end in minutes and Jayden will get off before then if it‘s the last thing Ryan does—when Ryan starts working it, slicks his cock up all nice with precum, Jayden fists his hand in Ryan‘s shirt, pulls him in for a fiery, explosive kiss, tongue brutal and attacking and so fucking good it hurts. Ryan groans into his mouth, gets frustrated with the material restricting his movements, uses his other hand to shove Jayden‘s jeans down his hips. He breaks from the kiss and gives Jayden a bare second to catch his breath before he‘s shoving two fingers in Jayden‘s mouth, pressing against his tongue, and Jayden‘s lips close around them and he‘s sucking, eyes all pupil, hands moving to dig into Ryan‘s skin like he can‘t help it. ―Yeah,‖ Ryan says, voice all throat, hoarse and broken like Jayden‘s gonna be in a minute. ―You know what I‘mma do to you now.‖ He pulls his fingers free, drops to his knees, and Jayden makes a noise that sounds something like a protest, but Ryan ignores it, gets his mouth around Jayden‘s cock before Jayden‘s brain can catch up, swallows him down, other hand with his slick fingers moving round to find Jayden‘s hole and push in. ―Fuck,‖ Jayden grinds out, word sounding sharp and dry, hips jerking forward to shove farther down Ryan‘s throat. Ryan chases him to press his fingers in as far as they can go, in and out, other hand going around the base of Jayden‘s cock, and he‘s sucking like he never has before, tongue working so hard he knows it‘s gonna ache, but he doesn‘t care, doesn‘t think about anything other than getting Jayden‘s

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taste on his tongue, feeling Jayden let go, come undone because of him, not that guy sitting in the next room. Jayden‘s hand finds his head, pushes him down, his hips jolting and thrusting, fucking Ryan‘s mouth like Ryan knows he likes. But suddenly it‘s not enough, it‘s not what Ryan wants, and before he knows what he‘s doing, he‘s reaching out to the side of Jayden, finding his drawer handle, digging around inside for what he needs. Pulls his fingers from Jayden‘s ass and tears the wrapper open, licks at Jayden‘s slit to get a last taste, rolls the condom on before Jayden even realizes something‘s different. Then he‘s on his feet, spitting in his palm, smearing it on and around Jayden‘s cock, on the condom, pulling Jayden into a kiss, then tearing away to say, ―You‘re gonna come inside me.‖ Jayden looks at him, cheeks flushed and teeth clenched. Then he‘s shoving him around, pushing Ryan face-first against the wall, and Ryan‘s opening his own jeans before Jayden can get there, pushing them down as far as they can go with his legs parted—and with nothing but two wet fingers in his ass and a couple of thrusts, Jayden shifts his body lower, removes his fingers, and pushes home. Ryan cries out, can‘t help it, and Jayden‘s hand closes over his mouth. Hissing in his ear to be quiet, Jayden starts fucking Ryan so hard, so desperate, Ryan knows he‘s gonna be feeling it for days. It doesn‘t last long—Ryan takes his own cock in his hand and jerks it in time to Jayden‘s thrusts, presses his forehead against the arm braced on the wall, and Jayden‘s fingers hold so tight to his hips as he pushes and pulls, comes out so far Ryan thinks he‘s gonna lose him, then hammers back in so deep, so good. And Ryan‘s groaning against Jayden‘s hand, stilted little grunts as he comes, shoots so hard he whites out, vision failing him and sensation taking over, the feel of Jayden inside him, cock throbbing as he fills the condom with spunk and presses his mouth down on the side of Ryan‘s neck. They go still against each other, nothing but breathing and sweat, Jayden‘s hand falling away from Ryan‘s mouth to rest against his shoulder. And before Ryan can talk—please or stay or let’s talk—Jayden‘s pulling out with a hiss, backing

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away, and Ryan turns just in time to watch him drop the condom in the trash built up in an old box by Ryan‘s door. ―Jayden,‖ he tries, conscious of how exposed he is as he watches Jayden tuck himself away. ―Don‘t.‖ Jayden runs a hand through his hair. He looks wrecked, completely wasted. Well fucked. ―This—‖ He waves a hand between them. ―This didn‘t happen.‖ Ryan‘s throat closes. ―Jayden, come on.‖ ―No.‖ He‘s talking like it hurts, like every word scrapes his throat raw. ―James, he‘s—I like him. I really like him. And he‘s not complicated.‖ ―I know I‘m hard work, but—‖ Jayden steps close to him then, cups the side of Ryan‘s neck in his hand, thumb stroking his jaw—and for a brief moment, Ryan hopes. But then Jayden speaks, and the hope dies. ―I moved down here because I was sick of being used by people who were supposed to care about me.‖ He pauses, licks his lips. And when he speaks again, the pain of everything going on inside his head washes across his face. ―I can‘t let it happen again. I can‘t keep letting myself be used.‖ Ryan tries twice to get words out. ―I‘m not using you.‖ Jayden smiles, a small expression full of so much meaning it takes Ryan‘s breath away. ―You don‘t know what the fuck you‘re doing,‖ he says softly. ―And I can‘t take a risk on that. I‘m not having my heart broken, Ryan, not by you. This,‖ he says, sucking in a strained little breath, ―this is it for us. We‘re done.‖ ―I can explain,‖ Ryan says, trying to hold on. ―Why I‘m like this. I can tell you everything.‖ ―I don‘t want you to,‖ Jayden whispers, and he presses a brief, painfully gentle kiss to Ryan‘s bottom lip. Then he‘s gone.

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Chapter Nine A week passes without incident. Ryan hears nothing from Jayden, and he doesn‘t pursue it, doesn‘t wonder, doesn‘t think of all the things Jayden and James are probably getting up to when he himself is lying in bed alone. Olivia spends the majority of her time with weird Andrew—so much time, in fact, Ryan only manages to see her when they‘re both at work. She seems happier, if a little high strung, so he figures it‘s working for her, this new relationship, and Andrew‘s apparently not married, so… But all the alone time does give Ryan plenty of time to think, to analyze, which is usually a terrible thing in terms of his mental health, but this time, with the benefit of hindsight, he thinks he‘s come up with an idea that might work, even if it means being hard on himself. He waits until Olivia spends a rare afternoon at home to announce it. ―I‘m taking a vow of celibacy.‖ Olivia‘s eyes go so wide it‘s a wonder they don‘t pop right out of her head. ―Noooo,‖ she says, like it‘s the worst thing in the world. ―Don‘t even think about it. I remember last time you didn‘t get laid for, like, two weeks, and you were a monster.‖ Ryan shrugs. ―I have to. I keep accidentally fucking Jayden, and that‘s really got to stop.‖ ―And you think not fucking anyone is the answer? You‘re gonna die. I‘ll find you one morning in bed, all shriveled-up corpse full of cum.‖ ―Dude,‖ he says, wrinkling his nose. ―That‘s gross.‖

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―But true.‖ ―I‘m doing it,‖ he says. ―I have to.‖ ―You‘re totally gonna fail.‖ ―Thanks,‖ says Ryan, and then, ―It‘s all part of my plan.‖ ―You have a plan?‖ She closes her eyes. ―Lord help us all.‖ ―Fuck you.‖ ―Is this about Jayden?‖ ―Of course it‘s about Jayden,‖ he says. ―Are you, like, totally obsessed with him now?‖ ―No,‖ he says. ―Maybe. I dunno.‖ He pauses, shrugs. ―He rejected me.‖ ―Oh,‖ she says, lips holding the O shape long after the word leaves her mouth. ―So this isn‘t about Jayden at all. This is all to do with your ego.‖ ―Exactly.‖ ―You‘re a liar,‖ she says. ―But whatever. This is actually kinda cute.‖ He frowns. ―Cute?‖ ―Yeah. You‘re all pining and wanting and totally in looove with this guy who got bored with you. It‘s hilarious.‖ ―I‘m glad you find joy in my man pain.‖ She snorts. ―Man pain, my ass. This isn‘t gonna last, Ryan. You‘ll be over it in a couple of weeks and back to fucking half the town.‖ ―I know what this is,‖ he says, narrowing his eyes at her. ―This is you going all reverse-psychology on me. You think by telling me I‘m not serious about this and I‘ll be over it soon, I‘ll rise to the challenge and prove you wrong.‖ ―No, Ryan. This is me being realistic. This is a massive change for you, sticking to one guy, and soon the cloud‘s gonna lift, and you‘ll realize what the fuck you‘re doing. Then you‘ll panic, like always, and piss him off again.‖

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―What‘s going on, Liv? Last week you were all for me trying to get Jayden back.‖ ―That was last week,‖ she says, shrugging. ―I‘ve had some distance. And I know you too well.‖ He stares at her for a long moment. ―Yeah,‖ he says. ―This is definitely reversepsychology.‖ ―Whatever. I gotta go meet Andrew.‖ ―Yeah, you better. You‘ve not seen him for nearly three hours.‖ Her eyes go hard. ―He says I need to stop babying you.‖ And before Ryan can respond to that gem, she adds, ―And he‘s right. You‘re a grown-ass man, Ryan, and your past is in the past. Leave it there.‖ Ryan doesn‘t miss how throughout the whole conversation, she fails to call him ―baby‖ even once. He wonders if she really is that irritated with the whole drama, or if she‘s under an outside influence. Neither option leaves him feeling particularly warm.

*** Ryan touches his finger to the button three times before he actually presses it. The buzz is loud, slicing through his resolve, and he‘s this close to walking away, when Jayden answers. ―Yeah?‖ Ryan takes a steadying breath. ―Hey, man. It‘s Ryan. Can I come up?‖ ―Uh.‖ ―Is your boyfriend there?‖ ―No,‖ says Jayden with audible hesitation. ―Then let me up, man. I promise it‘s safe.‖ ―You said that last time.‖ ―Things are different. You‘ll see.‖

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After a few seconds of worrying indecision, the door buzzes open. Ryan takes the stairs two at a time in his haste to avoid punking out, and when he gets to Jayden‘s door, Jayden‘s there, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. ―So here‘s the thing,‖ Ryan says before Jayden can open his mouth. ―I‘ve decided you‘re really unattractive.‖ Whatever Jayden was expecting, it wasn‘t that. Surprise flashes over his face before he schools his features, quirks an eyebrow. ―Really.‖ ―Yeah,‖ says Ryan. ―I mean, to be honest, you kinda make my skin crawl.‖ The corner of Jayden‘s mouth quivers, holding back a smile. ―Is that so?‖ ―I suppose some might find you hot,‖ Ryan barrels on, pressing his advantage. ―If they go for tall-and-built and all. But me?‖ He makes a face. ―Sorry, man, but you really don‘t do anything for me.‖ ―I‘m devastated,‖ Jayden deadpans. ―Is there a reason you‘ve come up here to destroy my ego?‖ ―Yes. I have a proposition.‖ Jayden frowns. ―Not that kind of proposition,‖ Ryan says. ―Didn‘t I just get through explaining how gross you are? Want me to talk about that for a bit more so the message really sinks in? But I warn you,‖ he adds, raising a finger, ―I may vomit. You just… You turn my stomach.‖ ―Right.‖ ―I‘m ugly too, right?‖ Ryan pushes. ―Oh yeah,‖ says Jayden. ―Totally hideous.‖ ―See? No risk of us jumping each other anymore, now our true feelings have come out.‖ ―Obviously,‖ says Jayden, and the smile breaks through for the barest of instants. ―So this is your plan?‖ ―Who says I‘ve got a plan?‖

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Jayden gives him a flat stare. ―All right,‖ says Ryan. ―You got me. I thought we could try just being friends.‖ ―Ryan…‖ Jayden says on a sigh, uncrossing his arms to rub his forehead. ―We‘ve been over this.‖ ―That was before, back when we were both pretending we felt some kind of attraction. Now the truth‘s out.‖ ―It‘s not gonna work.‖ ―It will. You can be my lame, ugly friend I take pity on.‖ ―I‘m honored.‖ ―I wouldn‘t be,‖ says Ryan. ―All my other friends are stupidly good-looking, so there really wasn‘t anyone else to fill the position.‖ He gives Jayden time to hide another smile, then adds, ―So d‘you wanna hear my proposition?‖ ―That wasn‘t it?‖ Ryan rolls his eyes. ―Me asking you to be my friend isn‘t a proposition, Jayden; it‘s a gift.‖ ―Oh,‖ says Jayden. ―You should tell Olivia that. I think she might want to return hers.‖ ―Why?‖ asks Ryan, frowning. ―What‘s she been saying? And I‘ll have you know,‖ he adds, ―I‘m an awesome friend.‖ ―Sure you are.‖ ―Can I come in?‖ ―No.‖ ―That‘s not very friendly of you.‖ Jayden rolls his eyes. ―You maybe wanna get to the point sometime soon?‖ ―Not a point,‖ says Ryan. ―A proposition.‖ ―Right. Let‘s hear it, then. I haven‘t got all day.‖

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―Okay,‖ says Ryan, taking a small step forward. He doesn‘t miss how Jayden recoils slightly—barely anything at all—but he brushes it off. He‘s got time to smooth this over and plenty of determination. ―So I‘ve lived here for years.‖ Jayden stares. ―Congrats?‖ ―Listen, there‘s nothing about this town I don‘t know—the people, the places, the local businesses, the empty properties.‖ ―I think I know where this is going,‖ Jayden says slowly. ―I need a hobby,‖ Ryan says. ―A project, really. Olivia‘s gone all the time, and most of my friends work days, so I‘m sitting around a lot doing nothing and going out of my mind. All I do is think.‖ ―Dangerous,‖ says Jayden. ―Exactly. So here‘s what I‘m suggesting.‖ Ryan pauses, takes a breath. ―Let me help you sort out your life.‖ Jayden blinks. ―You want to be my life coach? I don‘t really think it‘s your calling, Ryan.‖ ―No,‖ says Ryan. ―Not exactly. It‘s just. You‘ve got all that money, and you‘re doing nothing, just sitting on your ass all day wasting your life. I‘m doing the same. And while the money‘s not mine, I can at least help you do something with it. After all,‖ he says, smiling, ―who better to help you set up life in this town than someone who knows it like the back of his hand?‖ ―Right,‖ says Jayden, drawing the word out. ―Let‘s assume for a minute this isn‘t the craziest thing I‘ve ever heard. What do you get out of the whole arrangement? Because I‘m not paying you to rearrange my life.‖ ―No payment. I‘m not a charity.‖ Jayden opens his mouth to say something, but Ryan cuts him off. ―My art,‖ he says. ―Once we‘ve found you the perfect home, you buy some of my paintings and hang them on your wall. That‘s all I ask.‖ Jayden‘s silent for a long moment, thoughtful. ―That‘s fair.‖

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―It is?‖ says Ryan, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. ―But you don‘t even know if I‘m any good.‖ ―I do.‖ Jayden gives an awkward smile, shifts his position. A pale blush forms high on his cheeks. ―That first night we, you know—‖ ―Don‘t remind me,‖ Ryan says, raising a hand. ―I‘ll throw up.‖ Jayden flashes a grin. ―Right. Anyway, that night after you fell asleep, I got up and…snooped.‖ ―Snooped?‖ ―Yeah, for like an hour. Looked in all your shit, man.‖ ―That,‖ says Ryan, ―is a million kinds of creepy.‖ ―I know.‖ Jayden laughs, brief and genuine. ―You were just so fucking mysterious, and I was dying of curiosity. Wanted to know about the guy whose bed I‘d forced myself into. So I went and looked.‖ ―Um. So what did you find?‖ ―Well,‖ says Jayden, shifting again. ―I found out you were an artist—a good one, even. I found out you sponsor a kid in Africa. You like Shakespeare and Wilde, but you love trashy fantasy novels. You‘re really into movies, and not just watching them—the technical side of them too. You buy a lot of gifts for other people— probably Olivia—if the receipts for flowers and perfume and chocolates are any indication. I found your book full of all your friends‘ addresses, phone numbers, and birthdays. And you have a secret stash of scented candles.‖ There‘s a long silence following Jayden‘s words, during which Ryan‘s mind chases itself in circles trying to think of the appropriate thing to say. Eventually he settles on, ―Okay, I‘m thinking maybe I should be calling the cops on your ass.‖ Jayden shrugs, smiling fondly. ―I was just… I was really into you, man. Right from the start. Rooting through your things and finding out you‘re a pretty decent guy didn‘t help matters. Didn‘t you wonder why I became so persistent with you after that? I had a…you know. A thing.‖

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―A thing?‖ says Ryan, struggling with a whitewash of blank thoughts. ―Like a crush?‖ ―Or something.‖ Jayden smirks. ―Good thing we‘ve figured out you‘re ugly, right?‖ ―Right,‖ says Ryan, trying for a laugh. Truth is, he‘s never felt less like laughing in his life. More like he wants to turn around and walk away, bury his head in the sand and wait for it all to vanish. All of it. The feelings, the confusion, the way his heart‘s starting to contract whenever he thinks of what he could’ve had but threw away. ―Um. Guess that explains how your number mysteriously appeared in my phone.‖ ―I just punched the number in. I didn‘t look through your phone,‖ Jayden says. ―I‘d never do that.‖ ―But digging through my drawers is okay?‖ ―Even I have my limits.‖ ―So this crush, or whatever… It‘s gone?‖ ―Of course it‘s gone,‖ says Jayden. ―You‘re hideous.‖ But he‘s smiling, a warm, secret smile, something quiet and personal, something Ryan‘s got no choice but to return. ―So can I come in now?‖ ―Yeah,‖ says Jayden, stepping aside. He lowers his head, the flush spreading across his cheeks. ―You can come in now.‖

*** ―So let‘s forget about prices,‖ Ryan says, perched on the edge of Jayden‘s couch. He‘s leaning toward the coffee table, writing Jayden’s house atop a piece of scrap paper. ―Stop thinking about how much you think a multimillionaire should spend on a house, and start thinking about the kind of home you‘d like to live in.‖ Jayden places a cup of coffee on the table next to the piece of paper and settles in next to him. Ryan has to pointedly ignore how close they are.

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―Okay,‖ says Jayden, ―let me think.‖ He takes a sip of coffee, gaze fixed on the opposite wall. ―Somewhere quiet, but not so quiet it takes me thirty minutes to get to the nearest store. With some land.‖ ―Why d‘you want land?‖ says Ryan, writing central but secluded. ―Dogs. I‘ve always wanted dogs.‖ Ryan falters at that. ―Huh.‖ ―What?‖ ―Nothing. Just something Olivia said.‖ ―Did she say I‘m like a giant puppy?‖ Jayden says, a fond sort of weariness in his tone. ―Everyone says that.‖ ―No. She said, uh…‖ He drops the pen on the table, reaches for his cup. ―She said you and I would end up owning dogs. Reckon she could sense it.‖ When Ryan finally glances up, Jayden‘s looking at him, an indecipherable glint in his eyes. ―But she‘s crazy,‖ Ryan says, voice tight. ―We all know that.‖ ―Yeah.‖ Jayden doesn‘t look away. ―Anyway,‖ says Ryan, clearing his throat. He grabs the pen. ―This house. How many bedrooms are you thinking?‖ Jayden sits back, props his feet up on the table. ―Three. One for me, one for guests, and one for, um, I dunno…a study or something.‖ Or a studio. For art. Ryan kinda wants to slap himself after thinking that. Rather than voice his ridiculous desire to sit in Jayden‘s spare room and paint, he goes to the other extreme. ―Do you think we should ask James for his opinions? I mean, if you guys are gonna work out, then I think—‖ ―Ryan.‖ There‘s something sharp in Jayden‘s tone, like this particular line of conversation makes him angry. Ryan blinks, confused. ―It‘s been a couple weeks. I‘m not looking to settle down‖—there‘s a slight hitch here, something pulling at

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Jayden‘s voice, and Ryan wouldn‘t have even noticed if he weren‘t so tuned into everything Jayden says or does—―with him.‖ ―Right,‖ says Ryan. ―Sorry. It‘s not like you can know if he‘s the one after such a short amount of time. That stuff usually takes months.‖ ―Usually,‖ says Jayden, and it‘s so laden with meaning that Ryan has to get up before he pushes this conversation into waters he promised he‘d stay out of. ―Can I use your bathroom?‖ He doesn‘t wait for an answer, just hightails it to the bathroom door and shuts himself in, leans against the sink. Stares at himself in the mirror and gives an order to pull his shit together. Jayden‘s not saying anything; Ryan‘s just reading a whole lot of shit into words that weren‘t said. We barely know each other. Love at first sight and whirlwind romances and instant connections—that’s all for the movies. This is real life, and in real life, people take their time. Jayden’s not feeling anything. But Ryan is. It‘s crazy and fucked-up and goes against everything, everything, he‘s always known, and if someone had asked him last month if he was ever gonna give up his wild life for one guy, only one guy, he‘d have laughed and bought some drinks and probably gone on to have sex with someone half an hour later. But it‘s there, whatever this feeling is, and it‘s strong enough for Ryan to know he can‘t leave it alone and hope it goes away. It might not be love—he‘s hopeless over this guy, but he‘s not deluded—but it‘s something, and he can‘t live the rest of his life wondering what if? Time to sink or swim. When he leaves the bathroom, Jayden looks up at him with confusion and a hint of worry on his face. Ryan pastes on a smile and says, ―How about you and me go and grab a late lunch?‖

***

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They eat at an outside table of a little café, nothing fancier than sandwiches and coffee. It‘s a warm enough day, a touch of breeze, and Jayden‘s dimples are getting a good workout as he entertains Ryan with tales of his family before his mom died. He‘s just finished telling Ryan about some dude called Steve from his childhood, who by all accounts was a dick, but someone he can‘t help but miss, when he puts his empty cup down by his plate and says, ―So. Tell me something about you.‖ Ryan freezes. He‘s still getting used to this sharing-and-caring thing, and it‘s not getting a whole lot easier the more he pulls away from his previous persona— the person who fucks anonymously—and starts embracing the person he‘s trying to become. ―Like what?‖ ―Anything,‖ says Jayden, shrugging. ―Something I don‘t already know.‖ Ryan‘s on the verge of launching into his story, his explanation, but it doesn‘t feel right. Not here. There has to be a moment, at some point, when it‘s the perfect time to start talking about it. But not here, in a populated street, when the line between him and Jayden is still somewhat frayed. ―You already know everything about me, dude. You snooped through my shit.‖ ―Something I couldn‘t find in your drawers.‖ Jayden pushes. ―Something personal.‖ Ryan racks his brain but comes up empty. He was never any good at being put on the spot. ―I dunno, man. Just ask me questions, and I‘ll answer them.‖ ―All right.‖ Jayden narrows his eyes, gives Ryan a contemplative stare. ―When did you lose your virginity?‖ Ryan doesn‘t even have the decency to get embarrassed. ―When I was sixteen.‖ ―Boy or girl.‖ ―Girl.‖ ―Hm,‖ says Jayden. ―When did you find out you were gay?‖ ―About two minutes into the act of losing my virginity.‖

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Jayden smirks. ―You lasted longer than two minutes on your first go? Impressive.‖ ―Well,‖ says Ryan, ―it was a girl.‖ ―Point,‖ says Jayden. ―How many people have you slept with since?‖ ―Dude.‖ And there‘s the embarrassment he was so rudely lacking before. ―Why are you so fascinated with my sex life?‖ ―Too many for you to count?‖ ―Well, yeah. You know what I‘m like.‖ He rubs his clammy palms on his thighs. ―But it doesn‘t matter now.‖ ―Why not?‖ ―It just doesn‘t.‖ It‘s not like Ryan‘s gonna tell him about the celibacy vow, but still. ―What about you? I bet you‘ve been around.‖ ―Oh, you know,‖ Jayden says and leaves it there. They lapse into a silence, but it‘s more thoughtful, not uncomfortable. They watch the people in the street and listen to the conversations going on around them and sneak glances at each other when they think they‘ll be undetected. It‘s all quite juvenile, really, Ryan figures, but it‘s happening, and when he accidentally knocks his knee against Jayden‘s beneath the table and leaves it there, Jayden doesn‘t move away—leans forward, in fact, to pull a piece of loose thread from Ryan‘s sleeve in what Ryan‘s sure he‘s supposed to think is an absent gesture, but knows isn‘t, not when their wrists brush together and Jayden so obviously feels the little spark when he does, eyes shooting up to meet his. ―So,‖ Ryan says when Jayden‘s leaning back in his seat again, shifting his leg to press closer, ―I was thinking tomorrow we could make some appointments to see some houses. That is, if you haven‘t got any plans with, um…with James.‖ ―No plans,‖ Jayden says without giving anything away in his tone. ―Okay, cool.‖ Ryan hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should push his luck. ―Um, also, there‘s this thing on Saturday. You know Frankie‘s band? They‘ve got a

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gig. Olivia and I got the early shift at work so we could go. I mean, I know you‘re probably busy, but I thought—‖ ―Olivia already invited us,‖ Jayden interrupts. Ryan swallows. ―Us?‖ Right. Jayden and James. They‘re a package deal now. ―Is that a problem?‖ His voice is still guarded, holding everything in, but his eyes are open and offering something hard, like a challenge. ―No,‖ says Ryan, trying to smile. ―No, it‘s fine.‖ ―Good.‖ Then Jayden smiles—smirks, more like—his gaze flashing. ―Because Molly was really looking forward to it.‖ Ryan lets out the breath, releasing the tension. ―Not James?‖ Jayden does nothing but keep on smirking, one dimple highlighted by the sunlight splashed across his face. ―I‘m like a toy to you,‖ Ryan grumbles, but there‘s no heat in it. ―Always playing with my emotions.‖ The smirk dies on Jayden‘s face, replaced by something like a nervous little twitch or perhaps…a tinge of hope. ―I thought you didn‘t have emotions.‖ Ryan wants to look away, to break the moment, and he definitely doesn‘t want to speak and give anything away. But he does. ―I guess you kinda see through all my bullshit.‖ ―Guess I do,‖ Jayden says, so softly that it‘s like a caress against Ryan‘s skin. ―You wanna go somewhere?‖ ―Where?‖ ―Anywhere,‖ says Jayden. He gets up, offers his hand to Ryan. ―It‘s a nice day, and I want to spend it outside. With you.‖ Ryan takes Jayden‘s hand, pulls himself up with a smile, and neither of them mention the way their fingers keep brushing against each other on the walk back to the car.

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*** They go to the market that randomly pops up a couple of times a month, spend some time strolling past the stalls. Jayden wants to look at everything. The homemade crafts are, in particular, a delight to him. He finds random ceramic vases and charm necklaces and wind chimes, buys half the candle stall, and stuffs a small pack of spicy-scented candles into Ryan‘s hand with his eyes twinkling. They move on to a stall run by a guy in leather with about eighteen million holes in his face. He‘s selling old records and vintage T-shirts, and Jayden delights in holding up every T-shirt against Ryan‘s chest, trying to find one that looks right, grinning and laughing the whole time, and Ryan has no choice but to smile back, to stand there and take it. He settles on an old AC/DC T-shirt after making Ryan promise fifteen times that he really is a fan, buys himself a cheesy hat with ROCK OFF scrawled across it in red stitching, makes Ryan wear it. They get hot dogs from a 108-year-old vendor and take them to the park, find a bench and take some weight off. Discuss the weather and the lake nearby and Jayden‘s hopes for the future—something to do with theater. Ryan laughs at all of Jayden‘s jokes because he‘s actually a pretty hilarious guy, and in the middle of a sentence, Jayden reaches out and swipes ketchup from Ryan‘s bottom lip, eyes warm and open as he sucks the thumb into his mouth. Ryan‘s stomach jolts and rolls, and he knows he‘s not gonna hold down any more of the hot dog, so he offers it to Jayden, gets him up so they can walk down to the lake. The sun‘s bright on the cool day, bouncing off the water as they wander the bank; Ryan watches kids feed some ducks and listens to Jayden go on about animals and the different kinds of trees, and when he places a hand on the small of Jayden‘s back to steer him to a patch of grass, Jayden falters and stops talking and smiles down at Ryan, just a small smile, something warmer than the sun. And Ryan thinks, when they‘re sat in comfortable silence and feeling the breeze on their faces, that there really is no time like the present.

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―The thing about foster care,‖ he says, and his voice is quiet, but Jayden hears him, looks around at him with surprise, ―is that they‘re all paid to care about you.‖ Jayden sucks in a tiny breath. ―Ryan—‖ ―Just let me talk,‖ Ryan says. ―You need to hear this.‖ He waits for Jayden to give a small, hesitant nod, feels Jayden‘s eyes burning him, and pushes on. ―My parents had the worst marriage in the world. They were both full of resentment for wasting their lives on each other. I think they were in love once, but it didn‘t last. But they‘d had kids and they were stuck, and it was just… It was just so much hate. It filled up the house, filled us all up, and when I was ten, I swore I‘d never end up like that. There was no way I was gonna live my life in such hatred, tie myself down to one person, a person I couldn‘t love forever.‖ He pauses, doesn‘t dare look up at Jayden, finds a blade of grass and pulls it through his fingers. ―Anyway, when the marriage finally broke down, things kinda…got destroyed. I mean, more than they already were. Instead of arguing over who got the kids, they argued over who should be the one allowed to go off and be free.‖ Jayden‘s hand finds Ryan‘s back, a steady, gentle presence between his shoulder blades, and Ryan uses that touch to ground himself, to carry on. ―We ended up in the system, separated. I was twelve, spent the next four years shipped around from place to place, families with fake smiles and a grudging commitment to making sure I went to school and didn‘t starve. Guess I had a bit of an attitude problem, couldn‘t get anyone to warm to me. Then I ended up with this couple, real nice people, finally thought this was it, you know?‖ He smiles, wonders if Jayden sees it. ―My parents didn‘t love me, the foster families were paid to pretend, but then I‘d found this couple, and it felt real, like it—like I was home.‖ He stops there, takes a couple of breaths. Jayden‘s hand is moving on his back. When he talks, his voice is as quiet as Ryan‘s. ―What happened?‖ Ryan lifts one shoulder. ―They found out I was gay. Whatever I thought they felt—loved me, or whatever—I was wrong. Really fucking wrong. Everything kinda

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crashed around me, and I was out on my ass. I was sixteen. Been on my own ever since.‖ He looks up at Jayden then, sees the pain in Jayden‘s eyes, the understanding, feels something in his own chest crack and break and shatter. ―How am I supposed to give myself to someone, to—to love—if I‘ve got no fucking idea what it is?‖ He crumples the blade of grass between his fingers, lets it fall to the ground. ―Olivia loves you,‖ Jayden murmurs. ―And Frankie.‖ Ryan shakes his head, stares at his knee. ―That‘s different. I‘m talking about the kind of love that you know is gonna be there, no matter what. That whatever life throws at you, however much you screw up, that other person is always gonna be there. The kinda love that‘s so powerful, you don‘t know how you can hold it all, how it‘s not tearing you apart.‖ He looks up again, meets Jayden‘s sad eyes. ―The kinda love you‘re supposed to get from your parents.‖ ―Or the person you choose to spend the rest of your life with,‖ Jayden says, voice cracking. ―But you fell into a pattern.‖ ―Like I said, when I was ten, I promised myself I was never gonna let anyone get that close to me, close enough to hold my whole life in their hands. It‘s too much of a risk. I don‘t…I don‘t want to feel the kind of hate my parents did, not for someone I loved.‖ ―It doesn‘t have to be like that. Your parents—they‘re…they‘re the exception. Most people fall in love and stick together for the right reasons. And you shouldn‘t deny yourself that feeling, Ryan, not because of your parents and a bunch of random families. You can‘t let it dictate the rest of your life.‖ He stops, and Ryan watches his throat roll with a swallow. ―Do you think…do you think you could? Love someone, I mean. If you felt the risk was worth it.‖ Ryan stares at him, feels the world fall away around him. ―I don‘t know. I wouldn‘t even know if I did. No idea what it feels like.‖

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―You‘ll know,‖ Jayden says, the hand on Ryan‘s back curling into a fist, pressing and pushing until Ryan‘s leaning forward with his heart leaping into his throat. ―When it happens, you‘ll know.‖ ―Have you ever—‖ ―Yeah,‖ whispers Jayden. ―Come here.‖ Ryan mutters, ―Your boyfriend,‖ right before Jayden says, ―Shh,‖ against his lips and kisses him. It‘s a slow kiss, something easy and gentle and sure, and Ryan feels it deep down, in his blood and bone and straight through his heart. Jayden‘s hands find his face, fingertips brushing his cheekbones and jaw and neck, constant touches like he can‘t stop, has to feel Ryan against his skin. Ryan‘s breathless when it ends, rests his forehead against Jayden‘s and lets the breeze dry his lips. ―Your boyfriend,‖ he says again, because he thinks it should be important. Jayden huffs out a quiet breath. ―Yeah,‖ he says and leans back, his hands falling away. Neither of them says anything else for a while. Ryan spends his time pulling up blades of grass, twisting them around his fingers, feels the sun warm his skin and tries, really tries, not to think too much. ―If you were in my situation,‖ Jayden suddenly says, ―what would you do?‖ He looks at Ryan, his face blank, giving nothing away. But Ryan doesn‘t need anything explained to him. He knows what Jayden means. ―I can‘t answer that.‖ Jayden nods, as if Ryan gave him the answer he‘d been expecting. His gaze drops to his own hands, his shoulders slumping. ―I really like him.‖ ―I know.‖ ―He and I really have something.‖ So do we. But Jayden doesn‘t need to be told. It‘s the most obvious, certain thing about their whole situation.

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―It‘s good, you know? We have a good time together.‖ ―Sounds like a great guy,‖ Ryan says, his voice broken and dry. ―He is.‖ Jayden looks at him, smiles a small, private smile. ―But he‘s not you.‖ A war goes on in Ryan‘s body, a battle between his heart and his head. He‘s bad news, and he‘s got nothing to offer. Nothing but himself, flaws and all. ―I can‘t promise you anything.‖ Jayden stares at him, a crease between his eyebrows. ―Give me time,‖ he says. ―I need to… I don‘t even know. Think, I guess.‖ ―Make a decision?‖ ―Is that even in my hands?‖ Ryan licks his bottom lip, hesitates. ―Yeah,‖ he says. ―I‘ll wait.‖ As if seized by a sudden surge of want, Jayden tips forward and presses a harsh, bruising kiss to Ryan‘s lips. Ryan moans despite himself, fists his hands in Jayden‘s shirt, releases a disappointed breath when Jayden pulls away a bare instant later and stands up. ―I‘ll call you tonight,‖ he says and walks away without giving Ryan time to respond.

*** Ryan goes home to find Olivia doing that scary speed-cleaning thing she does when she‘s upset. She‘s scrubbing a yellow cloth so furiously over the kitchen counter, Ryan fears for the counter‘s life. He hovers just inside the kitchen door, hesitant. ―What‘s up?‖ he tries, then winces in preparation. Olivia jumps, then glances over her shoulder. ―What makes you think there‘s something wrong?‖ She grabs the disinfectant bottle, spritzes it over the surface she just cleaned, and reaches for a scouring pad. ―God, Ryan, why does there always have to be some kind of drama? Some of us can get by without some traumatizing event happening every single fucking day of our lives.‖

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―Okay.‖ He approaches her with caution and waits for her to become distracted by an invisible stubborn bit of dirt before swooping in and grabbing her hand, halting her movements. She freezes and glares up at him with ice in her eyes. He steels himself. ―Tell me what‘s wrong.‖ ―Nothing,‖ she bites out. ―Is it me?‖ ―You‘re not the center of everyone‘s world!‖ He recoils, raises his hands in surrender. ―All right. Jesus. I‘m just concerned.‖ ―Oh, you mean for once you‘re actually noticing the people around you? It‘s not all about you anymore?‖ ―That‘s enough.‖ He takes her shoulders and turns her to face him. ―Quit being a bitch and just tell me what the fuck is going on.‖ ―Nothing!‖ ―Olivia—‖ She deflates, throws her scouring pad onto the counter, and rubs a hand over her brow. ―I had a fight with Andrew. No big deal.‖ ―A fight?‖ Ryan tenses his jaw for a moment, smothering the comment he really wants to make. ―What about?‖ ―Nothing really. It‘s just—He booked us a table at some exclusive restaurant in the city.‖ ―So?‖ ―For Saturday.‖ For a moment, Ryan still can‘t figure out what the problem is. Then it dawns on him. ―But that‘s when Frankie‘s got his big show.‖ ―I know,‖ she says on a sigh. ―He‘s counting on us to be there. He needs the support.‖ ―I know.‖

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―So tell Andrew to book the table for another night.‖ ―I already did, but there‘s a wait list, and he said he had to call in some favors.‖ ―So what? There are other restaurants. Is he really gonna ask you to miss your best friend‘s show?‖ She bites her lip, breaks eye contact. Ryan bends his knees to catch her gaze again. ―Tell me he didn‘t.‖ ―He just wants to do something nice for me,‖ she says in a quiet, unsure voice. ―By making you choose between him and your friends?‖ ―It‘s not like that.‖ ―Then tell me what it‘s like.‖ Anger simmers in Ryan‘s chest, in his blood, and he takes a deep breath in an attempt to keep it in check. ―Because it looks to me like he‘s trying to control you.‖ That hits a nerve. Olivia‘s eyes flash a warning, and she breaks away from him, stalks to the opposite end of the kitchen. ―He‘s not controlling me, for fuck‘s sake. He‘s just—‖ ―Forcing you to let Frankie down!‖ He crosses his arms over his chest, digs his fingers into his bicep. ―You told him no, right?‖ Her lack of response says it all. ―Jesus Christ, Liv. What the fuck‘s got into you? Since when have you been the kind of girl who lets guys walk all over her?‖ ―No one‘s walking over me,‖ she says in a dangerously calm voice. ―But when my boyfriend goes out of his way to do something special for me, I can‘t tell him, ‗No, sorry, my friend‘s singing a few songs at a club that night.‘ It‘s not how these things work.‖ ―What things?‖

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―Relationships.‖ She says it with an edge, layers it with meaning, and Ryan doesn‘t respond for a few seconds, a certain degree of fear welling in his gut. Relationships. But he snaps out of it and focuses on what‘s important. ―Why are you with this guy?‖ he asks, gentle and careful. ―Because I like him.‖ ―But—‖ ―And this is the reality, Ryan,‖ she continues. ―Relationships aren‘t all sunshine and roses and sex. They‘re hard work, and sometimes we have to make sacrifices, but sometimes—just sometimes—it‘s really fucking worth it.‖ ―You think so? What if you bend so much you end up broken?‖ ―Guess you‘ll have to find out,‖ she says. ―How‘s it going with Jayden, by the way? Made any progress?‖ He‘s not fooled into thinking the subject‘s been changed. ―Olivia—‖ She smiles, bitter and mirthless. ―Get back to me when you‘ve grown up.‖ Then she grabs her purse off the table and leaves Ryan to contemplate why everyone‘s always fucking walking away from him.

*** Being an artist gives Ryan the one thing he covets above all else: control. He doesn‘t believe in muses, in divine blasts of inspiration; he decides what he creates, not anyone or any myth. And just like Olivia and her cleaning, he likes to paint during times of distress, of uncertainty. Because right now this is the only thing he can control. Olivia‘s tipping off the rails with that asshole Andrew—and Ryan knows there‘s something wrong there, feels it in his bones, but he can‘t force honesty out of her, no matter how much he wants to know why—for the love of God why—she‘s allowing a guy to treat her that way. And Jayden… Well… He holds all the cards now. All Ryan can do is sit, wait, hope…and paint. His art will do whatever he wants it to do.

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He sets a fresh canvas in the corner of his bedroom and considers it, thinks about the state of his mind, what he‘s feeling right now. Then he picks up his brush and begins, loses himself in the rhythm, the fluidity, the control. When the phone rings, he starts so violently out of his bubble, he barely avoids streaking a line of brown down the center of his new creation. He sighs in relief and puts down the brush, digs his phone out of his pocket. It‘s Jayden, and Ryan‘s stomach lurches. ―Hey.‖ ―Let me ask you something,‖ Jayden says without preamble. His voice sounds tight, constricted, words tumbling out in a rush. ―If you felt something for me, would you fight it? Will you get scared and run?‖ Ryan holds his breath. This, right here, is his biggest challenge: vocalizing emotion. To go from someone who couldn‘t feel a thing to someone confident enough to discuss his feelings out loud is an obstacle he‘s not sure he can cross, not yet. He‘s had mere hours to come to terms with the idea that yes, he has feelings for Jayden; there hasn‘t been enough time to process the epiphany. So in the end, after a long stretch of tense silence spent with the two of them attempting nothing more than breathing at each other over the phone, he simply says, ―No,‖ and prays it‘s enough. ―Okay,‖ Jayden says, and it worries Ryan, this lack of a proper response. Confuses him. ―Okay? What… Are you… Have you thought about things?‖ Jayden doesn‘t answer right away. When he does, it‘s with heaviness in his tone. ―I‘ll call you later.‖ Time passes, far too much time. The sun sets on Ryan‘s half-finished painting by the window, and his stomach starts to growl. He makes a sandwich, eats a quarter of it, watches the clock for a while, then turns on Bridezillas. Eight o‘clock becomes nine, and as it ticks toward ten, he gets up and makes coffee but forgoes it in favor vodka. One shot, two, another splash of color to his painting, and more vodka. It‘s eleven, and Jayden hasn‘t called.

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By eleven thirty, Ryan can‘t take it anymore. He just wants to know. Is he still a free man, or does he now need to make some promises? His head will never settle, and he won‘t be able to sleep until he knows. Potentially, this could be the most lifechanging moment of his whole life—throwing away everything he knows about himself and starting over as a newer—and supposedly better—man. He has no idea if he can, if his motivations are born from good intentions, but he has to know. Needs to know if he now carries the pressure of holding someone else‘s happiness in his hands, or if it‘s already a moot point. His head hurts as he grabs his car keys, his stomach threatening to throw the vodka back at him, and he breaks a few traffic laws on his drive over to Jayden‘s. He shouldn‘t have bothered. There‘s no need to pull onto Jayden‘s street. Ryan can see everything with crystal clear clarity from the corner. James, leaning back against his car, and Jayden pressing in close. They kiss, right in front of Ryan‘s eyes, and whatever epiphany he‘s had about emotion can go fuck itself. The excruciating pain in his chest is not something he will ever feel again. No one will ever get close enough for the risk. He goes home, grabs his new painting, and slashes right down the middle of Jayden‘s face.

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Chapter Ten He ignores Jayden‘s calls, and when Jayden comes over and bangs on the door, Ryan pretends he‘s not in. By the time he gets to work the following evening, he‘s convinced himself he no longer cares. That he never cared to begin with. ―You look like you could use this,‖ Frankie says, handing Ryan a beer. Ryan releases a bitter laugh. ―That obvious?‖ ―Don‘t take a genius to figure out the mess you‘ve got yourself into, son.‖ ―Doesn‘t matter,‖ Ryan says, shrugging. ―It‘s all over now.‖ To his absolute horror, the words have to force their way past a sudden lump in his throat. He ducks his head and coughs, scrabbles for something else to say. Then Frankie‘s warm, heavy hand lands on his shoulder, and he doesn‘t need to look up to see the pity in Frankie‘s eyes. ―It‘ll be all right,‖ Frankie says, and his tone suggests he‘d rather be having any other conversation right now. ―If you, uh…you know…need to talk… Tell you what,‖ he says, his voice brightening, ―why don‘t we go out on the hunt tonight? We haven‘t hit Reflections for a few weeks—how ‘bout some new meat?‖ Ryan smiles and reaches for the beer, tips the neck at Frankie. ―Thanks, but I‘m not really feeling it right now. Rain check?‖ ―Sure. Right. Um…‖ Frankie doesn‘t really do heart-to-hearts. It‘s his best quality, in Ryan‘s opinion. ―Ryan! Oh my God, Ryan!‖

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Startled by the terror in the voice, Ryan looks over his shoulder to find Ethan rushing toward him, his shirt on inside out and one shoe missing. ―Ethan? What the fuck are you doing here?‖ Ethan‘s always quietly disapproved of Ryan and Olivia‘s choice of employment and often states how he‘d never step foot in such an establishment—despite the pictures circling the Net of him, the town‘s favorite madam, and a startling array of fetish wear. ―Ryan, thank God,‖ he gasps as he comes to a stop before Ryan and clings to his arm. ―I didn‘t know if you were working tonight, and she said not to call you, but—‖ ―She? Olivia?‖ ―What‘s wrong with Olivia?‖ Frankie interjects, leaning as far over the bar as he can, thunder in his eyes. ―She all right?‖ ―I haven‘t broken my promise!‖ Ethan says instead. ―She said not to call you, and I didn‘t, see? I visited you instead. You can vouch for that, can‘t you?‖ He looks almost comically worried. ―Dude,‖ says Ryan. ―What‘s going on?‖ Ethan takes a deep breath, notices Frankie‘s intense stare fixed on him, returns it for an instant, then says, ―She called me and asked if I could pick her up. I said, ‗Okay, sure‘—and that‘s when she made me promise not to call you. Which I didn‘t—‖ ―Yeah, you‘re a total angel. Get on with it.‖ Ethan gives him a funny look, somewhere between fear and worry, and Ryan‘s entire body prickles with tension. ―Ethan.‖ ―Okay. Well…‖ He bites his lip, then says, ―Just before I was about to hang up, a man started shouting in the background. I couldn‘t understand what he was

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saying, but she started shouting back, and then… Well, and then she screamed, and the line went dead.‖ Frankie vaults over the bar before Ryan can process Ethan‘s words. Then, as Frankie barges into Ethan‘s space, chest to chest, it hits him: Olivia. Trouble. Screaming. ―Where is she?‖ Frankie growls into Ethan‘s face. Ethan, to his credit, doesn‘t appear intimidated. He wipes a fleck of spit from his eye and says, ―She told me she would wait for me in the parking lot of that French restaurant on the river—‖ Neither Frankie nor Ryan sticks around long enough to hear the rest of Ethan‘s sentence. And Frankie‘s shouting to Mike anyway—something about an emergency—and they‘re gone.

*** The restaurant‘s parking lot is awash with rain by the time they get there—a sudden downpour that took them by uncomfortable surprise. Neither of them thought to grab their jackets as they left the club, and ten seconds after leaving the car, they‘re soaked. Frankie, apparently, couldn‘t care less about the rain. ―Where is she? I can‘t see her.‖ ―Hang on.‖ Ryan fishes his phone from his pocket and dials Olivia‘s number, heading toward the restaurant with Frankie by his side. ―Maybe she‘s inside, hiding from the rain.‖ Frankie releases a gruff noise Ryan assumes is agreement. The first call rings off, and when Ryan tries again, Olivia‘s ringtone pushes its way through the rain. They come to a halt, listening. Then Frankie points to the restaurant‘s side alley. The ringtone grows louder as they near the laneway. Ryan hangs up, slips his phone away, glances at the murderous expression all over Frankie‘s face. Together they enter the alley.

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Olivia‘s there, her phone on the ground beside her feet, and she‘s with Andrew, who is, quite assuredly, going to be a dead man any second, what with the way he‘s crowding Olivia against the wall and causing that look of fear in her eyes. ―What the—‖ says Frankie, and he gets there first, wrenching Andrew away as Ryan grabs Olivia‘s wrist and tugs her behind him. Frankie throws a punch before anyone has chance to say anything. Andrew stumbles, but he seems too high on his own anger to really feel the pain. ―Look what that whore did to me!‖ he screams, pointing at his face. He has a split lip and three bloody scratch marks down one cheek. ―Look!‖ ―You deserved it,‖ Olivia says, shoving past Ryan. He holds her hand, just in case, and she squeezes his fingers before saying, ―No man lays a hand on me and gets away with it.‖ She has a red mark on her cheekbone, Ryan notices with a shock of ice to his veins, and he‘s not the only one to see it. Frankie rounds on Andrew with pure fury carved into every line of his body. ―Come on,‖ Ryan mutters, giving Olivia a moment to scoop up her phone before pulling her away. ―Frankie‘s gonna take care of it.‖ With some reluctance, Olivia follows him, and they exit the alley to the wet sound of Frankie‘s second punch making contact. ―Hope he kills him,‖ Olivia mutters. Ryan bundles Olivia into a soggy hug once they reach the car, kisses the top of her head. Then he opens the passenger door and helps her in, and once he's in the car, in the driver‘s seat, beside her, he turns to her, watches the way her face closes down. Her bravado‘s gone, replaced with sadness, the red flush of embarrassment. ―I know,‖ she mutters. ―I‘m an idiot.‖ ―Why?‖ is all he says. She fiddles with the heating, spends a moment or two attempting to smooth her bedraggled shirt. Then she says, in a tiny voice and without looking at him, ―He

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was the first one to stay.‖ He has no response to that—barely even understands. ―Every guy I‘ve ever been with has left me. Once they get what they want, they go. I‘m… I‘m only good for one thing, apparently, and—‖ ―No.‖ He reaches for her hand, but she recoils. ―No, come on. You don‘t believe that.‖ ―Don‘t I? Then you tell me what‘s wrong with me, Ryan. Why doesn‘t any guy like me for me?‖ ―Because you‘re hot,‖ he says, his heart twanging painfully, ―and guys are idiots. A lot of them only see the packaging and don‘t care about the person inside. But it doesn‘t mean there are no good guys out there, Liv, I promise you.‖ ―I thought Andrew was.‖ She gives an empty smile to her knees. ―Even when he started acting like a dick, I kept telling myself it was okay because he stayed, because he liked me. I was…flattered and blinded and so fucking stupid. I just wanted… I want a man who will like me when I‘m not wearing makeup, who can sit and watch a whole movie with me without putting his hand up my skirt… A man who‘ll listen to me and respect me and ask me how I‘m feeling. Is that so much to ask?‖ She lets Ryan take her hand then. ―Does he exist?‖ The driver‘s door opens, revealing Frankie in all his red-cheeked, adrenalinefueled glory. Ryan raises an eyebrow at him. ―Everything okay?‖ It takes a second, but Frankie rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath. ―Pussy folded after one punch. Called him a cab.‖ ―That‘s it?‖ says Olivia. She doesn‘t sound very pleased. ―It‘s enough. You took care of him yourself. I just gave him a little reminder. Don‘t worry, sweetheart,‖ he adds, giving her an uncharacteristically shy smile. ―He won‘t be coming near you again. Get in the back, Ry.‖ ―What?‖ ―It‘s my car, and I‘m driving.‖

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The drive back to the club is quiet, and Ryan spends it watching Frankie sneak glances at Olivia when he thinks she isn‘t looking. It‘s sad, really. She‘s completely blind to him, to the one guy who might just be everything she needs. ―I‘ll drop you off out front,‖ Frankie says to Ryan as they near the club. ―Then I‘ll take Liv home and see she‘s all right.‖ It should be Ryan‘s job to take care of Olivia; it‘s been his responsibility since the day he met her. But judging by the gentle smile she‘s now giving Frankie, it might be time for him to hand the job over. Ryan‘s okay with that. The rain hasn‘t eased any, and Ryan opens the door to a miniflood in the gutter. He grimaces, but before he steps out, Olivia twists in her seat. ―Baby,‖ she says, grabbing his arm. His heart stutters. He had no idea how much he‘s missed hearing that word. ―Yeah?‖ She squeezes his arm, smiles at him. ―Thanks. For everything.‖ He leans forward and kisses her on the mouth, presses his forehead against hers for an instant, then looks at Frankie. ―I swear to God, if you ever—‖ ―I won‘t,‖ Frankie says instantly. After a moment, Ryan nods. He ignores Olivia‘s confused blinking as he steps out of the car and back into the rain. He braces himself for a moment, because he‘s in a filthy mood and he‘s going to have to deal with Mike, who‘s no doubt pissed that the bartender and security disappeared without much by way of explanation awhile back. Then his phone beeps, and he finds shelter in the club‘s entryway before reading the text.

FROM: Jayden Are u planning on explaining why ur blanking me?

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No, I’m really fucking not. Jayden can live his domestic bliss with James. He doesn‘t care so long as Jayden stops calling and rubbing his face in it. With a surge of hot anger bubbling in his chest, Ryan shoves the phone back into his pocket and runs his hands through his hair. And then nearly jumps out of his skin when Nathan appears in the entryway—popped out of thin air, Ryan thinks, because he wasn‘t fucking there a minute ago. ―Here you are,‖ Nathan says, wearing a grin Ryan can only describe as flirtatious. ―Been looking for you.‖ ―Is that so?‖ Nathan wears a red shirt, lets it fall over the hem of his dark, well-fitted jeans. So young, Ryan reminds himself, but so pretty. And if the burning gleam in his eyes is anything to go by, still very much willing. He steps closer to Ryan, drops his tone to something that‘s attempting to be sultry. ―I heard you broke up with your boyfriend.‖ The word boyfriend sends a blast of white noise through Ryan‘s head, and he looks away, thinks of something to say, and promptly sees something that makes him want to laugh. Through the round window cut into the wooden door to the club, he spies Ethan propping up the bar. But he‘s not alone—his mouth is firmly and rather enthusiastically attached to Sophie‘s. Huh. ―Ryan?‖ ―Um…‖ Ryan bites back a smile and turns his attention back to Nathan. ―He wasn‘t my boyfriend, but yeah, that‘s over.‖ ―I‘m sorry to hear that.‖ He couldn‘t sound less sincere if he tried. ―Oh, but look at you,‖ he says, stepping closer still. Ryan can feel Nathan‘s breath in the close quarters. ―You‘re all wet.‖ Ryan almost rolls his eyes. Could Nathan be any more cliché? But he doesn‘t care. Not now, when Jayden‘s made his choice, when his own heart‘s breaking for

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the first—and last—time in his life, and there‘s a guy standing in front of him who wants him, who makes him feel desired. He plucks at his sodden shirt, smirks a little. ―Guess I am.‖ Nathan doesn‘t need any more of a cue. An instant later he‘s in Ryan‘s space, smoothing his hands over Ryan‘s shoulders, whispering his naive attempts at filth in his ear, and licking a line up his neck. It doesn‘t feel right. Ryan‘s not turned on or into this at all, and he knows it‘s because of Jayden, because of the lingering feelings he doesn‘t want to have for Jayden. And he‘s angry that Jayden gets to do this to him, gets to dictate who Ryan fucks even when he‘s made it clear he doesn‘t care anymore. Ryan uses that anger, grips Nathan by the hips, and pulls him close, wills his own body to react. Then Nathan grouses, ―What the fuck is that creep staring at?‖ and Ryan‘s world spins out of control. ―Wait,‖ Nathan adds, ―I know him.‖ Of course he does. Nathan was there the night Jayden came to the club. And Jayden‘s here again, standing in the rain, staring with dead, empty eyes at Ryan and Nathan pressed together. A second later, he turns and walks away. ―Fuck,‖ Ryan says, shoving Nathan. ―Jayden, wait!‖ His heart pounds in his ears, his stomach churning with panic and guilt, his legs shaking as he runs after him. He catches up to Jayden as he‘s attempting to hail a cab, and Jayden doesn‘t give him time to say a fucking word. ―How can you do this to me?‖ Jayden yells, cheeks flushed and stark in the harsh glow of the yellow streetlight blaring down on him. ―After everything—when we were finally getting our shit together. Fuck, Ryan, make me understand. Make me fucking understand how you can take everything we have and throw it away on a…on a random nobody.‖ The weight on Ryan‘s chest presses down, his breathing struggling through the hard lump in his throat. Jayden‘s never looked so big—so wide and tall and

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intimidating, arms spread apart in fury, eyes flashing, chest tilted forward as though he‘s seeking reassurance. So big, yet so heartbreakingly small. The hurt radiates off him, and Ryan smiles a bitter smile. The anger‘s back, and he welcomes it. ―Now you know how I feel.‖ Jayden falters, opens his mouth to speak, and blinks instead. ―What?‖ he says, quiet and…and confused. Jayden’s confused? ―I saw you.‖ Ryan takes a step forward, gets closer to the pain now shining in Jayden‘s eyes. A car zooms by them in the deserted street, something red and expensive, and the rain splashes around their ankles. ―I saw you with James.‖ He sees the moment realization dawns on Jayden—watches his shoulders sag, his throat roll with a difficult swallow, his gaze stutter away. Ryan calculates and widens his smile. ―Yeah,‖ he says, steps closer still until he can feel the warmth of Jayden‘s body in the bitter, drenched air between them. ―You two looked real cozy yesterday. Tell me, Jay, do you wanna explain that?‖ ―You‘re such an idiot,‖ Jayden mutters, and all of a sudden he‘s too close. He presses a hand to each side of Ryan‘s neck, closes even the tiny distance between their bodies. ―I love you,‖ he whispers, the words almost lost on the breeze. ―I fucking love you. Why don‘t you trust me?‖ Ryan can‘t breathe, can‘t think, can‘t look away. ―So ready to jump to conclusions when I‘ve never given you any reason to doubt me.‖ His voice nothing more than an intimate murmur. ―I couldn‘t betray you if my life depended on it. Don‘t you understand that? You, though—‖ His hands tighten on Ryan‘s neck, and he closes his eyes, bumps their foreheads together. ―The first thing you do is go looking for your next fuck. Christ, Ryan, I can‘t—‖ He steps back abruptly, releases Ryan, and shoves his hands into his pockets. ―Don‘t I mean anything to you?‖ he says, and Ryan wants to cry. ―You kissed him,‖ Ryan mutters. His stomach‘s in knots; he‘s half-afraid he‘ll throw up, absolutely terrified Jayden will walk away. ―I saw you kissing him.‖

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The look Jayden gives him is so full of pity, of agony, that Ryan feels it like the shattering of a million shards of ice in his chest. ―I was saying good-bye. I took the one sure thing in my life and gave it up for a stupid risk. I gave it up for you, Ryan.‖ Jayden laughs, quiet and sharp. ―Shows how much of a moron I am.‖ Ryan can‘t speak. Doesn‘t even try. And then, with damp eyes and an expression of pure, devastating desperation, Jayden asks, ―Do you feel anything for me?‖ It‘s on the tip of Ryan‘s tongue—to say it out loud, to vocalize his feelings and give Jayden everything he wants—but the fear paralyzes him for an instant, an instant too long, and before he can get the words out, before he can say, Yes, I do, so fucking much, Jayden shakes his head and steps back into the rain-soaked road, sadness washing over his face. ―Never mind,‖ he says, bitter and dry. Then he walks away. Again. Panic overwhelms Ryan, the sense that his whole world‘s slipping away, and he starts forward, arm outstretched. ―No, Jayden, wait—‖ Jayden stops in the middle of the road and turns hurt eyes on him. ―What?‖ Ryan takes a deep breath and ignores the painful way his heart hammers against his chest. ―I do.‖ Jayden‘s mouth opens slightly—whether in shock or to say something, Ryan doesn‘t wait to find out. ―I do. Okay? More than you know.‖ It takes a second or ten, but the smile that spreads across Jayden‘s face is tentative, small—but so unbelievably heartfelt it steals Ryan‘s breath. He doesn‘t notice the car until it‘s almost too late. The tires squeal across the wet road, brakes working hard, but it‘s not stopping, not in time, and Ryan gets one snapshot of Jayden‘s stunned, terrified face before he‘s hurtling into the road, no conscious thought filling his mind other than no no no no no.

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With the car now close enough to touch, zooming straight toward Jayden at a million life-destroying miles an hour, Ryan barrels into Jayden with all the force his slippery feet will allow, uses the momentum to tumble them into the curb with a series of painful thumps. The car zooms past. Doesn‘t even stop to check. From above, thunder shatters the sky. ―Oh…my God,‖ Jayden says, breath short and stuttered. Ryan‘s spread out on top of him, sharing air and bruises, and he gives himself only a moment before he climbs to his feet with a grimace. One deep breath later, Jayden follows, and they stand, soaked through and dirty, staring at each other. It‘s Jayden who breaks the silence, and he speaks with something like awe. ―So you just risked your life for me. Guess that must mean you care a little.‖ Ryan swallows. ―Guess so.‖ ―Do you care enough to stop trying to screw this up?‖ Which is when Ryan thinks, Fuck it. It‘s a bit off-putting having to go on tiptoes to capture Jayden‘s lips, but Jayden ducks his head at the last moment, and things are balanced again. The kiss is mean, like they‘re trying to make a point, and it‘s surprising how little shyness there is, how there‘s no hesitation. Jayden pulls away with a gasp and then immediately kisses him again. ―Not to be a girl,‖ he murmurs against Ryan‘s mouth, apparently unable to break fully away to speak, ―but if we keep standing in this rain…‖ ―Yeah,‖ grumbles Ryan, who also doesn‘t want to die of the flu or some other disgusting illness. ―Come on,‖ he says as Jayden takes his bottom lip between his teeth. Stumbling over each other‘s feet and never once breaking the kiss, save for stilted laughter or grunts of pain as they knock knees, they make their way over to the relative shelter of a store doorway.

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Jayden pushes Ryan up against the door and clasps his body close, pulling on his hair and attacking his mouth almost viciously. Ryan grabs and fumbles with Jayden‘s shirt until he‘s found the hem and slips his hands beneath, palming the small of Jayden‘s back and up over his ribs. With a hiss, Jayden leans forward as if to get away from the touch; it presses him closer into Ryan‘s body. He shifts his feet to get closer yet, and their hips connect. They still, panting against each other‘s mouths. Ryan can feel Jayden‘s heart beating against his chest and knows his own matches the rhythm. Time seems to slow as they stand frozen, and then a droplet of rain slips down Ryan‘s collar and runs all the way to the small of his back. He shivers and arches his back, and the movement makes their erections press together. Jayden groans and buries his face in Ryan‘s neck, taking the skin between his teeth and tugging. Ryan throws all pretense and patience out into the rain, removes his hands from beneath Jayden‘s shirt, grabs his ass, and pulls. His head hits the glass door behind him just as a furious-sounding clap of thunder resounds around them. ―OhfuckI—‖ says Jayden as Ryan pulls on his ass again. Jayden starts rocking his own hips, rubbing his cock across Ryan‘s over and over and biting Ryan‘s neck and jaw and fumbling with the top of Ryan‘s shirt until there‘s enough skin exposed to bite there too. Ryan breathes into Jayden‘s ear, repeatedly hits his head on the door, feels pleasure build up in his gut and travel up his spine. But he‘s wearing jeans and no underwear and the zipper rubbing against his cock is casting uncomfortable pain over the proceedings. He says, ―Jayden…Jayden, we can‘t—‖ and pauses to groan as Jayden finds his pulse point and sucks. ―Dude, we can‘t… Not like this.‖ Jayden stills immediately, going stiff. Ryan worries for a moment until he sees the look in Jayden‘s eyes. A thrill of excitement shoots through him. ―What‘s the problem?‖ Jayden asks, fingers ghosting over Ryan‘s nipple through his shirt. ―Changed your mind?‖ ―No. No, I just… I‘m not…‖ He smiles apologetically. ―I‘m not comfortable.‖

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Jayden raises an eyebrow, and the next moment Ryan feels Jayden‘s hand grip his cock and squeeze. He groans, going cross-eyed. ―He doesn‘t seem to be complaining,‖ Jayden murmurs, adding more pressure. ―I… No… Fuck, Jayden, stop doing that. We need to move. I need to get out of these jeans, because the zipper… Oh, Jesus, please…please don‘t—‖ And then Jayden is undoing the offending zipper and the button and dropping to his knees on the rain-washed ground without a care for his trousers or the rain on his back. ―Dude, no, fuck. You can‘t—‖ gabbles Ryan. His fingers scrabble at the glass behind him in an attempt to find something to hold on to as Jayden, with a complete lack of preamble, takes the head of Ryan‘s cock into his mouth and sucks. Ryan squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on feeling rather than worrying, because he doubts Jayden would do this if he didn‘t really want to, and, fuck, he isn‘t going to complain. So he sighs and relaxes as best he can, melts into the door behind him, and threads his fingers through Jayden‘s hair. Lightning flashes through his eyelids as Jayden pulls away from his cock and runs his tongue along the underside, pressing against the vein and wiggling the tip of his tongue into the crease where Ryan‘s balls meet the base of his dick. He uses his hand to stroke Ryan while he gives attention to his balls, licking them and rolling them on his tongue, nipping the loose skin and turning Ryan‘s legs to jelly. Ryan‘s breath catches in his throat as Jayden comes back to his prick. He looks down, watching Jayden – staring up, eyes dark with lust—rub the wet head against his cheek and over his lips. ―I‘m sorry,‖ Ryan says. Jayden smiles, snakes his tongue out, and tastes Ryan‘s precum, dipping into the slit and making Ryan hiss and jerk his hips forward. ―I dunno if I said it‖—he tries one last-ditch attempt to concentrate—―but I am. I‘m sorry.‖ Jayden slips his tongue under the foreskin and out, back up and into the slit, using his hand to rub the length in quick, tight strokes.

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Ryan grits his teeth and tries not to give in to the temptation again of pushing Jayden‘s head down and his hips up, wanting to fuck Jayden‘s mouth and come down his throat. But he needs this to last, wants to let Jayden lead. Jayden must see the strain in his eyes, because he stops teasing. He grips the base of Ryan‘s prick and slips the head over his tongue, closes his lips around him, and sucks Ryan in—all the way in until Ryan feels Jayden‘s throat muscles work to accommodate him. He groans, twists his fingers in Jayden‘s hair, and bites the knuckles of his other hand. A loud clap of thunder allows him a secret whimper as Jayden swallows around the head of his prick and then moves back to the head, licks it in one long, lazy swipe. Then forward, all the way back down to the hand wrapped around the base, making his own noise of pleasure that hums around Ryan‘s dick and makes him dig his teeth into his hand a second time, his eyes squeezed shut again. ―Jayden, I—Jesus. This is so fucking good.‖ Jayden pulls away with a wet pop. ―Then stop talking,‖ he gasps, and his breathing‘s too heavy for it to just be from the work. He‘s dragging breath in, his chest rising and hitching against Ryan‘s knees. Ryan‘s glance down reveals Jayden‘s flushed cheeks and the sizable bulge in his pants. ―Shut up and enjoy it.‖ Ryan can‘t really argue with that. Jayden quickly develops a rhythm; he starts off quick and hard and does not let up. His mouth slides up and down Ryan‘s prick, the tongue wrapped around the underside, and his hand moves to meet his lips with every downward suck. He makes random noises of pleasure, and Ryan‘s breathing too harshly to pretend this isn‘t the best blowjob of his fucking life. The whole thing feels too surreal: standing in a doorway with Jayden Cobain‘s mouth around his dick while the rain soaks through their skin. But he doesn‘t care about the rain or their exhibitionism or the prospect of getting caught. He cares about Jayden‘s hand on his hip, squeezing, digging in sharp nails. And he looks down and realizes that Jayden‘s face is screwed up in agonizing ecstasy, that Jayden‘s coming without touching himself, coming before

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Ryan does. His movements falter, and his moans intensify. Their eyes meet, and Jayden pulls away from his prick and uses his hand, presses down on his own crotch as he shudders and groans under his breath, and then Ryan‘s coming, smashing his head back and then scrabbling at Jayden‘s head and pulling him forward, back onto his prick so he can come down Jayden‘s throat like he fucking needs to, and not feeling any resistance. He pushes his hips forward as far as he can, feels the back of Jayden‘s throat and the rapid convulsing as he swallows, and cries into the back of his hand as he peaks and crashes with a stuttered groan. He shudders through the aftershocks of his orgasm and then releases Jayden‘s head. Jayden pulls away and wipes his lips with the side of his thumb without looking up at Ryan, who‘s panting, trying to catch his breath, and doing his best not to panic or die of embarrassment. There‘s a long moment of nothing, and then Jayden clears his throat and stands, leaving puddles behind him. Ryan notices then that the rain has slowed, and the thunder seems to have abated. The wind is still fierce and loud, and it sends chills into the doorway. A frozen breeze whips at his exposed cock, and with a muted sound of embarrassment, he hurries to tuck himself away. Jayden seems to smile despite himself, and he scratches at his forehead in an obvious show of amusement and discomfort. Finally, they look each other in the eye. ―Look, I‘m sorry,‖ Ryan says. Jayden frowns, clearly not getting it. ―You know, with the, er, the pushing and stuff.‖ Ryan never blushes, and he‘s not going to start now, but this certainly isn‘t the most comfortable moment of his life. Jayden‘s smile doesn‘t flag, and he shifts his feet, but says nothing. Ryan suddenly remembers Jayden coming in his pants, and thinks he‘s probably feeling a bit off there. Ryan sympathizes but doesn‘t know what to say or do, and some part of him thinks he should be thanking Jayden or returning the favor, but Jayden‘s already come, so there‘s not much point, at least not for another ten minutes or so. Besides, the atmosphere‘s somewhat ruined; Ryan should have kissed him as soon as he stood, because now things are awkward and unsure and they‘re pretty much

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back to square one despite only minutes ago Ryan‘s having his dick in Jayden‘s mouth. ―Don‘t worry about it,‖ Jayden eventually says. ―I didn‘t, like, stop you or anything.‖ ―Did you want to?‖ Ryan asks, alarmed. ―Jayden, I didn‘t mean—‖ Jayden lets out a breath. ―Look. I wasn‘t trying to push you into any kind of admission back there. I just… I needed to know, man. You get that, right? I was so confused, and you‘ve done nothing but fuck up my head since I met you, and then just as I thought things were gonna work out, you stop answering my calls and…and then I see you with—‖ ―I‘m sorry.‖ It‘s important that Jayden knows that. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, Jayden lowers his voice and asks, ―Why didn‘t you trust me?‖ ―Um.‖ Ryan doesn‘t really see the point of hashing this out. Things are fine now, aren‘t they? They worked out. But apparently Jayden is the kind to talk through problems and issues, and Ryan supposes this is how it‘s going to be. If he‘s going to go through with this—if he‘s going to have an actual, honest-to-God relationship—then he needs to accept this whole communication thing. He‘s not an island anymore; no more Ryan‘s World with supporting characters. He thinks it‘s called growing up, maybe. So he points out, ―You cheated on James with me,‖ and settles in—as much as he can in a rain-washed, gritty doorway—for a conversation about feelings. Christ. ―That‘s different.‖ Actually… ―No, it‘s not.‖ Jayden huffs out a breath. ―I know. I just… You have to believe that I wouldn‘t do it to you. You‘ve turned my whole world upside down; it‘s a mess, chaotic. I never know if I‘m coming or going with you, but I do know that I love you‖—his tone drops even lower at that, as though he‘s a little nervous—―as crazy as that is. That I really want this to work.‖ He pauses, steps in closer, rests his hands on Ryan‘s hips.

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―You‘ve got me, Ryan, and the question is: how much can you give? It‘s all-ornothing with me. I can‘t live with the worry, the fear that you‘re with someone else when I‘m sitting at home waiting for you. All-or-nothing, Ryan,‖ he says again, bending his knees a little to look Ryan directly in the eye. ―What‘s it to be?‖ Ryan takes a second to consider his response, to gather his courage. This is his last chance; he knows that. Whether he can find the right words without crippling doubt or fear is another story. But he tries. Of course he tries. ―When I saw you kissing James,‖ he begins, wetting his lips, ―it felt like someone stabbed a white-hot knife through my chest. I don‘t know anything about heartbreak, but I think that was something close, and I know the heart only breaks when you‘ve given it to someone else. When you‘ve trusted someone to care for it, keep it safe. When you‘re in love.‖ Jayden doesn‘t blink, doesn‘t talk, barely even breathes—and the doubt Ryan valiantly tried to battle crawls in, makes him crave his personal space. He stays, though, grabs the front of Jayden‘s shirt and asks, ―Is that even possible? We‘ve only known each other a few weeks.‖ Jayden‘s eyes light up with his smile. ―Is there some rule stating how long two people have to be together to feel something?‖ ―There should be,‖ Ryan says, and he believes it. This whole thing has been almost more trouble than it‘s worth. Almost, but not quite. But his words seem to delight Jayden. His smile morphs into a dimpled grin, and his hands snake around to Ryan‘s back, hold him close. ―Turns out,‖ he says, bumping their noses together, ―I‘m pretty good at breaking other people‘s rules.‖ Ryan smothers that stupid smug grin, reaches up, and grabs the back of Jayden‘s head, pulls him in and kisses him to death. Jayden lets out a short little surprised squeak as their mouths connect, then opens to him, lets him in, melts into the doorway with him. The kiss is big, epic; it could‘ve gone on for hours. They do slow and exploratory, quick and sloppy; they do I‘m-as-turned-on-as-a-fuck-god and I‘m-so-comfortable-and-relaxed-I-could-stay-here-forever. They delve deep with their tongues, nip short and sweet at lips, give patterns of chaste little pecks, and

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spend long minutes on openmouthed hunger. They fondly murmur things like ―you‘re so the woman here‖ (Ryan) and ―idiot ―(Jayden). They deviate to the neck, the jaw, the collarbone and find their way back within seconds. They cling tight to each other; they stroke hands down spines and across shoulders, completely forget about the rain. They spend short spaces of time looking at each other, tapping noses, moving across to nip at earlobes or rub their cheeks against each other‘s hair. They‘re complete girls about it, and anyone looking in would be embarrassed for them. Ryan would later look back on that time with red-faced shame and perhaps a tingle of affection. But right then, in that moment, with nothing occupying his world and mind other than Jayden, his Jayden, he thinks that maybe—maybe—someone out there deemed to sprinkle a little perfection on his tiny bubble of happiness. And if that means he has nothing in his future but Jayden—him and Jayden together and no one else in between—then that will be just fine.

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Chapter Eleven Six months later

―No regrets?‖ Ryan asks, sidestepping a pile of rubble. Jayden turns in a slow circle, taking in the splintered walls, the cracked floor, the cobwebs clinging to all corners of the stage. He grins. ―Best chunk of change I ever spent.‖ ―Still can‘t believe you got it so cheap.‖ ―Well,‖ says Jayden, sauntering closer, ―I guess it helps that, once upon a time, my boyfriend gave the owner the best blowjob of his life.‖ ―How lame is it that he remembers that?‖ Ryan tries to frown, but he‘s not too successful. ―And you‘re not supposed to find my past exploits amusing.‖ ―You‘ve banged half the town, dude. Rocked a few worlds. Can‘t blame me for pulling in a few of your favors.‖ ―Hello?‖ comes Olivia‘s voice, followed by the click-clack of her heels, a small clatter, and her sharp curse as she stumbles on something. ―What‘s the emergency?‖ She trips through the doors of the main theater where Ryan and Jayden are standing, watching her trying to totter around all the debris. ―What the fuck is this dump?‖ ―It‘s mine,‖ says Jayden with another one of his devastating grins. Ryan‘s heart leaps at it, and these days he doesn‘t even deny it. ―I just bought it.‖ Olivia blinks. ―Seriously?‖ ―Yeah.‖ Jayden approaches her, holds out his hand. ―Come with me.‖

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―You‘re not planning to bury me under all this crap, are you?‖ Olivia says, but she lets him lead her away. Ryan follows them into the cavernous room to the left of the main theater and keeps quiet, stifles a smile. He doesn‘t want to ruin Jayden‘s big surprise. Jayden stops once he‘s pulled Olivia into the very center of the room and watches her as she takes in the size of it. ―Good space, right?‖ ―Yeah?‖ she says, distracted by the massive windows lining one wall. Jayden pauses before speaking again, keeps a close eye on her face. Ryan knows that, just like him, Jayden wants to catch her expression once she realizes what‘s going on. ―Just big enough for a dance studio,‖ Jayden says delicately and waits. It takes a second or two, but once it hits her, she whips her head around to stare at Jayden, her jaw dropping and her eyes bugging out of her head. Jayden can‘t contain yet another grin. It blooms across his face, dimples in full effect, and Ryan laughs to himself. Funny, how happy it makes him to see his friends full of joy. ―I kinda thought Olivia May‘s School of Dance was a good name,‖ Jayden says, and whatever he‘s about to continue with is cut off by Olivia‘s gasp. ―Are you… You‘re not serious. Are you? You‘re not.‖ She turns to Ryan. ―Is he?‖ ―It‘s an investment,‖ Jayden tells her. ―You run the school here, I get a cut of the profits, and you can put on shows.‖ She still looks to be in too much shock to think of a decent response, but she manages to ask, ―You bought a whole theater just to give me a dance school?‖ ―Well, no. I always wanted to get back into acting. I think… Well, I hope—‖ He rubs the back of his neck. ―This place could be really good for the community. Maybe.‖

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―Maybe?‖ she says. ―Oh my God, Jayden, I can‘t even—‖ Her mouth opens and closes like a fish‘s until she apparently gives up and launches herself at him, wrapping all five-feet-four of her tiny body around his massive frame. ―Whoa, hands off my girl,‖ says Frankie, appearing beside Ryan and making him jump. He claps Ryan on the back and watches with bemusement as Olivia attempts to squeeze the life out of Jayden. ―Got your text, Jay. What‘s going on?‖ Olivia detaches herself and runs at Frankie, high heels be damned. ―You won‘t believe what‘s happened,‖ she says in a rush, coming to an abrupt stop before him and gripping his shirt. He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. ―What are you even doing here? Thought I was picking you up at your place.‖ She beams. ―It seems the day‘s full of surprises.‖ ―I just wanted to show this place off,‖ Jayden says, walking over to them. He bumps his hip against Ryan‘s and offers him a private smile, eyes twinkling. Frankie blinks at him. ―You bought it?‖ ―Yep. And I also wanted to invite you to my housewarming this weekend.‖ ―You couldn‘t do that over the phone?‖ ―Dude,‖ says Ryan, ―did you miss the part where he wanted to show off his new baby?‖ ―But…it‘s a dump.‖ Olivia lets out a dreamy sigh, staring out at the room with excitement written all over face. ―It‘s a diamond in the rough.‖

*** ―There,‖ says Jayden, hanging Ryan‘s latest painting on the wall of his new house. It‘s a coastal landscape, painted after their weekend spent at the beach getting sand in all the interesting places. ―You really don‘t have to.‖ ―Hey, a deal‘s a deal. Besides, I happen to be very proud of your art.‖

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―Sap,‖ says Ryan, but he can‘t help but smile. ―So I was thinking…‖ ―Uh-oh,‖ says Ryan, and as Jayden goes to give him a thwack on the shoulder, he grabs Jayden‘s hand and pulls him close, tucks their hips together. ―With all this space,‖ Jayden continues, settling his hands on Ryan‘s waist. But Ryan knows what‘s coming, senses it in the careful tone Jayden‘s using. He sighs, rests his hands on Jayden‘s shoulders in return, and gives them a little squeeze. ―Jay, come on.‖ ―But—‖ ―We‘ve been over this,‖ Ryan says. A hint of regret colors his voice, because he‘s not entirely sure why he‘s resisting, and he hates that look of disappointment he puts in Jayden‘s eyes. But it‘s all too much. He‘s not ready. There‘s no way he can be ready. Not yet. It wouldn‘t make sense. Jayden caresses Ryan‘s sides, his hips, a soothing gesture as though he thinks Ryan‘s freaking out. But he‘s not. He‘s being realistic. Moving in together means nowhere to run. If Ryan fucks up, or if Jayden expects too much, then life‘s a lot more complicated when they don‘t have their own homes to escape to. It means sleeping in the same bed night after night, eating together day after day, spending every free moment sharing space and company and conversation, but above all else—at the root of Ryan‘s fear—moving in together means finality and pressure. And fear. ―How many times am I gonna have to ask you before you say yes?‖ Jayden says, tipping his head to the side, curious and playful and kinda sad all at once. ―I mean, you think I bought this big house all for me?‖ Ryan swallows at that. They went house hunting together, checked each room for lighting and views and space for Ryan‘s art, discussed guest rooms and colors

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and… ―Hey, Ryan, we can put a barbecue there, sit out in the sun.‖ They judged each house on how it suited the both of them, but they‘ve never said it out loud. Jayden bought Ryan a home, and he‘s turning it down. ―Please,‖ he says, his voice tight. He doesn‘t want to keep hurting Jayden. ―Can we just—‖ It takes a moment, but Jayden smiles, pulls Ryan in closer. ―You wanna watch a movie?‖ he says against Ryan‘s ear, dropping the subject, letting Ryan get away with it. Ryan presses a kiss to the side of Jayden‘s neck and steps out of the embrace. ―Can‘t. Olivia needs me at home for something.‖ He watches Jayden keep that bland smile in place and vows to make it all up to him. He can‘t give Jayden everything he wants, not yet. But he can damn well make him happy in all the ways that matter. ―I‘ll come over tomorrow?‖ he says. ―Stay the weekend?‖ ―Okay,‖ Jayden says with a small nod. ―Sure.‖ He puts his hands in his pockets, hunches his shoulders, looking for all the world like a little boy who doesn‘t know what to do with himself. ―Hey.‖ Ryan presses a finger under Jayden‘s chin, tilts his face down. Because he can‘t leave it like this, has to give Jayden something. Not hope, exactly, because he doesn‘t know if he‘ll ever be able to come through, but something. ―Guess what?‖ Jayden‘s eyes fill with warmth. ―You love me?‖ He never makes Ryan say it out loud; he doesn‘t push Ryan into admitting it or demand he prove his feelings. It‘s enough for them both to know it‘s there, and Ryan smiles now, kisses Jayden‘s bottom lip. ―See you tomorrow,‖ he says, a quiet murmur against Jayden‘s mouth. With a final kiss, Ryan leaves. He pretends he doesn‘t hear Jayden sigh as he watches him walk away.

***

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―This is a joke, right?‖ It feels like cosmic intervention, the universe waving a clue bat in front of his face. ―Seriously?‖ Olivia stands up from where she‘d been digging around behind the chair in her bedroom. She‘s got a roll of Bubble Wrap in one hand and an old bra in the other, and she blows hair off her face before saying, ―Seriously.‖ She doesn‘t sound as if she‘s joking. ―But…you can‘t.‖ ―I want to,‖ she says. Then she looks at his face, sighs, and deflates, drops the Bubble Wrap and bra on the bed and steps toward him. ―It‘s been six months. We‘re ready.‖ He crosses his arms over his chest, tries to be the authority on the matter. Someone fucking has to be. ―Six months is nowhere near enough time for you to be making this decision.‖ ―For you, maybe,‖ she says, something quiet and odd in her tone. ―But it‘s time for us.‖ ―Olivia—‖ ―My life‘s going so well, baby.‖ She tugs his arms out of their locked position across his chest and holds his wrists, pulls on them a little. ―With the dance school and talking to my mom again and… Look, Frankie and I—we work. It‘s good. When I‘m not with him, I‘m thinking about when I can see him next, and that, to me, is a pretty big sign.‖ ―Can‘t you just…‖ He trails off, has no idea what to say. He wants her to be happy, of course he does, but everything‘s changing so quickly, and nobody‘s giving him the chance to keep up. ―I‘m not leaving you,‖ she says with a smile, releasing his wrists to lean up on her tiptoes and wrap her arms around his neck. Her warm body presses against his from knees to shoulders, and he has to swallow down a lump in his throat. ―You‘ll still see me all the time. You and me against the world, right? That‘s not changing.‖

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He returns the smile, doesn‘t know what else to do. Pushes his lips to her cheekbone and closes his eyes. ―But who‘s gonna keep the kitchen clean?‖ ―Yeah,‖ she says, fisting her hand in the back of his shirt. ―I‘ll miss you too. Asshole.‖ They stay like that for a while, tucked into each other‘s space, silent and breathing and close. When Ryan starts to think about it too much, when images of an empty house and quiet days fill his mind, he gently pushes her away and says, ―So you want me to help you pack?‖ She turns from him, wiping her eyes. He doesn‘t mention it. ―Yeah,‖ she says, voice cracking. ―That‘d be great, thanks. Frankie‘ll be here in a couple of hours.‖ He heaves a sigh, surveys the midpacking destruction of Olivia‘s room. ―I‘m gonna have to find a new roommate.‖ ―Or,‖ she says, stronger now, turning back to him, that edge in her tone that always makes him worried, ―you could grow the fuck up.‖ He blinks. ―What?‖ ―Baby, come on.‖ She puts her hands on her hips. ―How many times has he asked you now?‖ ―Don‘t start,‖ he says, a low warning. ―Give me that box.‖ ―No box until you start owning up to shit.‖ ―Fine,‖ he says with a quick grin. ―Happy packing.‖ He turns and walks away, gets as far as the door before she blows out an exasperated breath. ―Fine,‖ she snaps. ―Here.‖ Half an hour later, with an obvious attempt at casualness, she says, ―I mean, this house is a dump. We‘ve always been too good for it.‖ He pauses halfway through trying to dig all of her shoes from beneath the bed, glares at the carpet. ―Olivia.‖ ―And he‘s got that big house.‖

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―Yeah. I know. I‘ve been there.‖ ―And he really loves you…‖ ―Shut the fuck up. Jesus Christ.‖ She stares at him from across the room, wide-eyed and innocent, adopts a tone full of false hurt. ―Are you gonna fight with me in our last hour together?‖ When his only response is an eye roll, she adds, ―Seriously, what‘s the worst that can happen? You fight and break up and come and spend a few nights at our place—Frankie‘s and mine?‖ He looks at the shoe in his hands, runs his thumb across the scuffed heel. ―You don‘t get it.‖ ―I don‘t?‖ She negotiates her way around the boxes and unpacked junk on the floor, sits down beside him, and leans back against the wall. ―So explain it to me.‖ ―What if—‖ He clears his throat, tries again. ―What if I fuck up? I‘ve never—‖ ―Been so involved before, I know. But, baby‖—she puts a hand on his thigh— ―he‘s seen you at your worst, and I think we‘ve all established you‘re not gonna cheat on him, so what‘s the problem? What can you fuck up? Stacking the dishes the wrong way?‖ ―Shut up,‖ he mutters. ―You know what I mean.‖ ―I know,‖ she says, soft and gentle. ―But I think you need to have more faith in yourself.‖ She squeezes his leg to get his attention, and when he looks at her, she smiles. ―He is so ready for you two to grow old together.‖ ―Christ,‖ he says. ―Are you trying to terrorize me?‖ She tuts. ―Don‘t even try and pretend you don‘t want the same thing. Because I see through all your bullshit, baby. Always have. You‘re so gone for him, you can‘t even think straight, because if you could, you‘d‘ve realized by now exactly where you‘re meant to be instead of making us all pussyfoot around your delicate ass.‖ He chokes out a laugh of surprise. ―You‘re such a bitch sometimes.‖

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―Love you too,‖ she says, then presses a smacking kiss to his cheek. ―Now get up and pack! Fuck. Stop distracting me.‖

*** Three hours later, Olivia and everything she owns are gone, and it‘s as though she‘s taken the soul of the house with her. His footsteps echo as he walks the hallway. He‘s never noticed that before. He can hear the faint sounds of traffic from the busy road a few blocks away and music from a passing car. The TV‘s small and old-fashioned, the kitchen doorknobs rusted and loose. He moves from room to room and takes stock of all the improvements he needs to make to the place before he can advertise for a new roommate. The torn curtains in the living room need replacing, and the couch is a bit too saggy. The toilet seat‘s coming off its hinges, and Olivia‘s room—the spare room—needs a new paint job. The front yard‘s overgrown, and some of the door frames are chipped. It‘s a lived-in and loved house, but only he and Olivia will see it that way. Everyone else, prospective roommates, will look at it and think it‘s falling apart, and Olivia‘s no longer here to appreciate its flaws. There‘s nothing he can do about it now. It‘s late, and he‘s tired and feeling too sorry for himself to worry about fixing doorknobs. He closes Olivia‘s bedroom door and heads to the bathroom, flips on the shower and undresses. All her smelly beauty things are gone, her soaps and creams and random bottles of promotional items she buys on impulse and never uses. She‘s left him a clean towel on the rack, and he scowls at it as though it‘s all the towel‘s fault, closes his eyes in the shower, and tips his head back into the spray, lets all thoughts and annoying emotion wash away. The end of an era. That‘s what it is. So huge he doesn‘t even know how to process it. When he reaches for his shower gel, he comes up empty. It takes him a moment to realize it‘s at Jayden‘s. He got sick of using the fruity stuff Jayden keeps on hand and took his own over there awhile ago. He can‘t even remember the last

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time he showered at home, the last time he left Jayden‘s long enough to need his toiletries in his own bathroom. With a sigh, he exits the shower dripping wet and crouches to retrieve the generic bottle of bath gel he and Olivia keep under the sink for emergencies. He grimaces at the smell. And after, in his bedroom, he digs through his drawers for clothes and finds nothing to wear. All that remains are old, torn T-shirts and frayed jeans, big fluffy vests he‘s not worn for three years, and a pair of Olivia‘s hot pants. Most of his art supplies are gathered in the room in the new house that Jayden decided is Ryan‘s studio; his DVD shelf sits half-empty and miserable. His bed‘s covered in the tacky washday bedding because he loaned his good set to Jayden when he moved into the house with nothing decent to put on his bed. He‘s got details of old electrician and painter appointments tacked to his mirror from when Jayden listed everything he wanted changed about the house, and the keys to Jayden‘s front door sitting on the dresser next to the torn-out image of a large leather sofa he thinks matches the rest of the decor in Jayden‘s front room. He moved into Jayden‘s house long ago. He just didn‘t notice. He spends a minute staring at the ceiling, arguing with the universe, trying to determine what the hot, coiling feeling in his chest really means. Then he reaches for his phone.

TO: Jayden Okay. I’m in The reply arrives within seconds.

FROM: Jayden Welcome home.

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Epilogue The phone rings while Ryan‘s lazily flipping through the movie channels, trying to find something interesting to watch for whenever Jayden figures out the barbecue and feeds them. ―It’s Friday night,‖ Jayden kept telling him. ―My mom always made grilled ribs on Friday nights, and we’d sit and watch a film together.‖ But he‘s not made much progress in the last hour, and Ryan‘s starting to think they‘ll starve under the weight of Jayden‘s pride and determination. He picks up the phone and tucks it between his shoulder and ear without bothering to sit up. ―‘Lo?‖ ―Olivia‘s visitin‘ her mom for the weekend,‖ Frankie says. ―I‘m bored. We headin‘ out?‖ Ryan almost says yes. It‘s been a while since he‘s been for a few drinks, felt the familiar sense of happy inebriation during a night out at the bar with Frankie. There‘s no harm in cutting loose and having a good time; moving in with Jayden doesn‘t mean the end of freedom, even if he needs to—wants to—keep it in his pants. He sits up, scrubs a hand over his face, thinks about it. A sudden flash of fire from the yard startles him, and he turns, looks through the patio doors at Jayden slamming the lid down on the barbecue, alarm on his face. He must sense Ryan‘s attention, because he glances over, grins wide and bright, waves his hand as if to say, Don’t worry. I’ve got it. God. Ryan slumps back on the sofa. His gaze lands on the scrap of paper Jayden left on the coffee table—the address of a local dog shelter. An obvious hint. Is this what my life’s become? Dodgy barbecues and Friday-night movies on the couch and a dog snapping at my heels, waking me up in the mornings?

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L. M. Turner L.M. Turner hails from Hertfordshire, England. After a three-year stint in Italy, she now spends her days living above a bookshop in Ireland with her partner, son, and assorted relatives who move in and out of her spare room whenever the mood strikes. When she's not writing about naughty, gorgeous men, she reads every book that crosses her path, spends far too much money in shoe shops, and talks a lot.