“Hey,” I said into the phone, by way of greeting.
“Oh, hey,” Will replied. “Wassup?”
“Not much,” I said, stretching my feet out onto the sofa. “I just remembered something and thought I better call you, because I was supposed to tell you at work today and forgot about it.”
Then I heard voices in the background. “Oh, where are you?”
“Out for dinner.”
“But it’s Tuesday,” I said, like that meant something.
“I’m aware of that,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not.
I figured I’d interrupted. “Sorry, it can wait until tomorrow…”
“No, Mark, it’s fine,” Will said. “What did you remember?”
“I was just talking to Carter and Isaac and they reminded me about getting suits for the wedding. I was just meaning to ask you about it, that’s all.”
“When is it again?”
“In five weeks.”
“Oh.” He mumbled something to someone else, then spoke again to me. “We can talk about it tomorrow at work.”
“Are you out with Clay?”
“Yes.”
“You never told me you were going out.”
“It was a last-minute thing.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, not sure why it bothered me. “Have fun. Don’t stay up late. It’s a school night.”
He chuckled. “Sure.”
I clicked off the call and threw my phone on the couch beside me. I was pissed off for no good reason, and because I was bored and had nothing better to do, I stripped off and got in the shower.
The water was hot and steaming and my hand snaked its way over my stomach and down to my aching cock. God, it’d had been so long since I’d had sex—months, in fact. Longer than I’d ever gone without some form of sexual act with some random stranger.
I leaned my left arm against the tiles and rested my forehead on my arm, feeling the hot streams of water run down my back while I pleasured myself.
Though it was hardly pleasure.
It was just a release. A release for the pent-up, angry frustration that plagued me. I’d been so out of fucking sorts these last few weeks, and now that Will was seeing that fucking Mr Perfect, I just couldn’t seem to get my head straight.
And that’s what did it.
I thought of Will. And when my hand pumped and squeezed my cock, it was images of him that swirled in my brain—of what he might look like with his head thrown back in pleasure, what sounds he might make, how he’d feel with my cock inside him, or him inside me.
I came hard, groaning through my orgasm. It was a hollow release; I felt relaxed, but not relieved. I felt… confused.
I’d just jacked off to mental images of Will.
I was going fucking crazy.
I crawled into bed, and instead of thinking about what just happened in the shower, I thought about the weekend instead.
I was going to go out. And I was going to get laid.
“Come on, Will,” I said. “Call Clay,” I tried saying his name like it didn’t taste bad in my mouth, “and tell him to come along. It’ll be fun. I’ll even let you two pick the bar we go to, I just need a night out.”
Will seemed unsure. “I don’t know what he had plans for…”
“But, Will,” I whined. “It’s Fri-i-i-i-i-da-a-a-ay. I need to go out and it’s your best-friend obligation to come with me. I even suggested to bring along your boyfriend and am forgoing the usual third-degree dinner and opting straight for the drinks.”
Will rolled his eyes. “I’ll call him and ask,” he said as though he were placating a child.
I grinned and when he pushed his half-eaten lunch over to me so I could finish off his fries, I asked, “How’re things going with him?”
“Him?”
“Yeah, Mr Perfect.”
“He has a name.”
“I know,” I said, popping a fry in my mouth. “I just think it’s an absurd name. Why would someone name their kid after a type of dirt?”
Apparently that didn’t warrant an answer or even an eye roll.
“Things are going pretty well between us,” he said.
“Could he be the one?” I asked, batting my eyelids and puckering my lips.
Apparently that didn’t warrant an answer either.
“Oh my God,” I cried. “It’s happening! You’re losing your sense of humor, just like Carter did! You fall in love and bam! Nothing’s funny anymore.”
Will threw his scrunched up napkin at me. “Shut up.” He slid out of the booth and I followed him.
As we walked back to work, I remembered. “Oh, I made an appointment at the tailor next Thursday after work for the both of us. I told him our sizes and he said he’d have them waiting but would adjust them to suit.” Then I added, “Because there’s nothing off the rack about you and me, baby.”
Will stopped on the sidewalk and stared at me. “Baby?”
“Oh shut up,” I mumbled. “Come on, I can’t be late. Hubbard loves you, but he hates my ass.”
Will tried not to smile. “Let me guess, he’s the only one to ever hate your ass?”
I grinned at him. “Well, there are only a select few who have had the privilege of my ass, and believe me, there were no complaints.”
Will laughed, but his cheeks tinted with blush. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“You have no shame.”
“None. It was omitted from my DNA, along with my scruples and bad hair days. I simply don’t have them.”
Will burst out laughing as we stepped into the elevator at work and touched my perfectly messy hair. “Yes, it’s stuck like that.”
“It’s called product, Will. You should try it.”
He rolled his eyes so hard it probably hurt, and as we walked out onto our floor and to our desks, we got busy with work and barely spoke for the rest of the day.
At five o’clock when we were finishing up, I looked around the cubicle wall. “You nearly done?” I asked.
He was reading something on his phone and looked up at me. “Yep. I’m done.”
“Will, are you sexting at work?”
“Is that really all you think about?”
“Um…” I pretended to have to think about it. “Yes.”
Will shook his head, stood up and pushed his chair back in. “It was Clay. He said we could all meet at The Green Room if you want.”
“I want.” It wasn’t a bar I went to often, but it would do.
“You’ll behave yourself, won’t you?”
“Of course!” I said, putting my hand over my heart. “I hereby solemnly swear, whilst in the company of Will and Mr Perfect, not to strip naked in public, not to have sex in public, nor to partake in any activities that incur an indictable offense.” Then as we left the elevator and walked into the lobby, trying not to sound pissed off, I added, “Jeez, Will. Does that cover everything?”
He frowned. “I just want to impress him, that’s all.”
We got to the sidewalk and I started walking in the direction of my apartment, leaving Will to go in his. “Yeah, I get it,” I said, not really caring if he heard or not.
After three or four steps, Will called out, “Meet us there at nine!”
I looked over my shoulder to find Will still standing in front of the door to work. I gave him a nod as my answer and crossed the busy street.
It wasn’t rational for me to be pissed off. But I couldn’t help it. He was supposed to be my best friend, yet dropped me like a sack of shit when a better offer came along.
And it stung.
By the time nine o’clock came around, I was showered and dressed, looking pretty good in my black jeans, gray tee-shirt, and black vest. I’d had two beers for social lubrication purposes, because I figured if I had to watch Will fawn all over Mr Perfect, then I should probably be in a better mood than when I left him.
Then by the time I got to the bar, I felt guilty for being an asshole to Will and knew I owed him an apology. I spotted him through the crowd, standing at a high table, and made my way over to him.
“Hey,” I said. It was a little loud in there already, so I had to lean in and speak up. “I’m sorry about before. I was a dick and I apologize. I promise I’ll be nice.”
Will smiled warmly at me. “It’s okay.”
“Where is he?”
Will gave a pointed nod toward the bar. “Getting drinks.”
I followed his line of sight and sure enough, there was Mr Perfect, looking all fucking perfect, at the bar. Just at that moment, he turned and saw us and gave us a tight smile.
“Is he okay with me being here?” I asked Will.
“It was his idea, remember?”
“No, it was my idea,” I corrected. “You asked and he agreed.”
“Mark…”
I put my hands up. “I promise I’ll be nice.”
Will looked a little put out. “I think I could really like him,” he said, leaning in and speaking into my ear. “I want you both to get along.”
I pulled back from him so I could look into his eyes, and I nodded. Clay was suddenly beside us with three beers, and he slid them onto the table.
Will took a step away from me, closer to him. “Clay, this is Mark Gattison. Mark, this is Clay Damon.”
I held my hand out, which he shook and gripped my hand a little too tight. Instead of rolling my eyes at him, I smiled. “Nice to meet you,” I said.
He gave me a nod, and we talked over the noise about work and other awkward ice-breaking conversations that were awkward.
Did I mention awkward?
Yeah. Awk. Ward.
I bought the next round of beers, because if I was going to get through this night, it wouldn’t be sober. When I got back to the table, Clay had his hand on Will’s back or around his waist or stuffed into his back pocket. I couldn’t really tell, but he was standing closer and they looked rather coupley, and for no good reason, it just annoyed me.
I looked around the crowded bar to the dance floor, but couldn’t see anyone worth approaching. So I had another beer, and then another and by this time the dance floor was pretty full and I was past caring what someone looked like.
I was just about to tell Will that I was going to find some lucky dude to dance with, when Clay announced he had to piss.
When Mr Perfect left, I grinned at Will and, grabbing his hand, pulled him toward the dance floor. It was then I noticed he was still wearing the bracelet I bought him. I wasn’t sure why that surprised me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Will asked.
“Just one dance,” I told him. “Then you can go back to him.”
Will just kind of stood there, not sure what to do. “Mark…”
“Come on, Will. We always dance. It’s what we do. We’ve always danced together,” I said and pulled him against me. “And what’s-his-name can just get used to it.”
Will just kind of shook his head at me, and he didn’t really relax like he normally did. I noticed Clay back at the table. He was watching us.
He didn’t look very happy.
I mean, fuck. I wanted Will to be happy, but the guy who was lucky enough to score Will as a boyfriend had to put up with me. I didn’t want to piss Clay off, but I had to let him know that I was a part of Will’s life too.
So I turned Will around so he could see Clay, and resting my chin on his shoulder, I waved Clay over, urging him to join us.
He hesitated for a while, but it obviously got the better of him because he made his way through the crowd over to us. I gently pushed Will into Clay, showing him I meant no harm, but then he did the strangest thing.
He slid his hand over Will’s ass and kissed him, openmouthed and deep, but he kept his eyes open and stared straight at me.
It was a ‘he’s mine, keep your fucking hands off him’ kind of stare.
It was disgusting.
If he wanted to intimidate me or threaten me or even scare me, he really didn’t know me very well at all.
When he finally took his tongue out of Will’s mouth, I threw my head back and laughed. “Hey,” I told him. “Can I suggest The Shed?” The Shed was a club downtown that catered to certain kinks. “They have a water sports room there. Because if you want to stake claims and piss on his leg in this bar, you’ll get kicked out.”
Clay glared at me, and Will blushed a little and wiped his mouth with his thumb. Even though Clay still had his arm around Will’s waist, I leaned right in close and said, “I’m going. You stay and have some fun. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Will looked a little confused. “You sure?”
“Yep.” I was damn fucking sure. I looked at Clay for long second, then back to Will. “If you need me, send up a bat-signal or call or something.”
And with that, I left.
I was absolutely certain of one thing: Clay was a fucking douche.
I spoke to Will on Saturday, just briefly. I was heading to my mom’s and just wanted to check in with him. I didn’t ask if he had plans with Clay or even if he was there, because quite frankly, I just didn’t want to know.
I didn’t speak to Will again until he got to work on Monday.
He acted like nothing had happened. He smiled to himself when he didn’t know I was looking and he’d smile at his phone whenever it would beep.
He never mentioned Clay, and neither did I.
But I couldn’t deny he was happy.
All week he acted like nothing had changed, and on Thursday, I asked what he was doing on the weekend. “There’s some Japanese Samurai film marathon on at Webster theater on Saturday,” I suggested.
“Oh,” he said softly, “Clay has a polocrosse game. I was going to watch.”
“No worries,” I said, covering quickly with some excuse that I only watched those shit subtitled movies because he liked them.
But he didn’t offer for me to come with him to watch stupid Clay on his stupid horse. I would have said no anyway, but it would have been nice to have been asked.
I wondered whether it was Will’s or Clay’s stipulation that I not be invited.
I guessed it didn’t matter.
“We’ve got our suit fittings this afternoon,” I reminded him quietly. Then something occurred to me. Maybe he didn’t want to go to Carter and Isaac’s wedding as my date anymore. “Hey, if you don’t want to come to the wedding, you don’t have to,” I told him.
“Oh, um…”
“Anyway, if you’d rather not, I can find someone else to go with me. It’s no big deal.”
“I forgot about the fitting,” he mumbled. “I’ll just text Clay…” He pulled out his phone, thumbing out some message. “I told him I’d head straight to his place after work, so I just told him I’ll be late.” Then he said, “I want to go to the wedding. I said I would.”
“Well, actually, you didn’t,” I told him. “I kind of told you you were going, and you just never said no.”
Will’s phone beeped, and our conversation was forgotten as he texted back and forth with Clay.
I told Will I had to work through lunch to get some figures done for a client, which wasn’t exactly the truth, and when five o’clock rolled around, I packed up and left before him.
I’d walked the two blocks to the tailor, when Will called out behind me. “Mark, wait!”
He was almost running to catch up. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked. “Are you pissed off at me? Because I said I’d go to the wedding.” He looked worried as he ran his hand through his short blond hair.
I shook my head and laughed at how ridiculous this was. He was free to do whatever he wanted. “No, Will, it’s fine.”
His eyes narrowed at me. “You sure?”
“Of course I am,” I said, relieved that he still cared. “Let’s go in and show ’em how to fill a suit.”
We’d done little more than introduce ourselves to the woman at the front desk of the tailor, when the door behind us opened. I didn’t turn around at first, not really caring who else walked into the store, but when Will spoke to someone, I looked to see who it was.
Clay.
In his blue fireman pants and boots and a blue tee-shirt with Hartford Fire Department written on the front.
Great.
Just fucking great.
“When I texted Clay earlier,” Will said, “I told him we’d be here and wouldn’t be long, and that he should come down if he had time.”
I guess he had time.
Where the fuck are all the pyromaniacs when I need them?
So what was supposed to be a fun thing for me and Will to do turned into a very quiet, very rushed, very shitty evening.
I told the tailor on the quiet to put Will’s tab on mine, and as soon as the measurements were taken, I made an excuse about not feeling good and left.
And the truth was, I didn’t feel good.
The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. So I spent the night on the couch watching reruns of Star Trek.
I told Will on Friday I still wasn’t feeling great and that was why I was heading straight home after work. Even though he was busy with Clay all weekend, he did text me to check on me. I replied saying I was okay and stupidly asked him what he was doing.
He never replied.
At work the next Monday, I pretended to be busy when Will got into the office and it was midmorning before we really got a chance to talk. And because he never texted me back and because I’m so mature, I waited for him to speak first.
“How was your weekend?” he asked.
“Okay,” I lied.
“Feel better?”
“Yeah,” I said. I never asked him about his weekend. I never asked about Clay.
I just didn’t want to know.
Because I knew, deep down, I was losing my best friend.
The rest of the week dragged. I got an incredible amount of work done—actually avoiding Will and not chatting over the cubicle wall meant I cleaned out my in-tray and then some.
Hubbard even smiled at me, and I didn’t say anything smartass back.
I spent the nights on the sofa, watching shit on TV. I spoke to Carter and Isaac on Wednesday, which was the highlight of my week.
I was truly pathetic.
By the next Friday, I was over it. Things between me and Will were weird, and it was awful.
I needed to get out. I needed to get laid, and I needed to find someone I could hang out with. The kind that didn’t dump me when they found a new toy to play with. I didn’t want to replace Will… I just wanted… well, I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted.
So on Friday night, I got dressed up and went to Kings. I was earlier than normal, and the place wasn’t too busy yet and I found myself at the bar.
“Hey, Pete,” I greeted the barman with a smile. He’d been the barman here for years, and as a place I frequented, I knew the names of most of the staff.
“Mark,” he said, smiling back at me. “What can I get you?”
“Just a Sams, thanks,” I answered, and I laid out a fiver on the bar.
Pete put my beer on the bar. “Where’s Will?”
“He’s with his new boyfriend,” I said, unable to stop the eye roll.
“Who’s the lucky fella?”
“Some guy named Clay. Plays polocrosse. Fire fighter. Mr Perfect, apparently.”
The barman’s eyes narrowed. His voice was quiet. “Clay Damon?”
“Yeah, do you know him?” I asked, then took a mouthful of beer.
“I know him by reputation only.”
“What? I suppose he’s hung like his horse too. Please tell me he has a pencil dick.”
He shook his head. “No. He’s not a nice guy. He’s a real prick, apparently. Has a real bad temper from what I’ve heard.”
Another patron called out to Pete, and as he walked away, he said, “Had an incident here a while back with him. Roughed up his boyfriend.”
Oh, hell the fuck no.
I remembered the disgusting stare he gave me while he kissed Will the other weekend, how possessive he was. I left my beer on the bar and as soon as I was outside, I pulled out my phone. I called Will’s number, but it went to voice mail. “Will, you need to call me. As soon as you get this message. Please.”