Me and him, in the shower—
The water running warm—
His hands on my hips, his body against mine—
His lips pressed against the curve of my neck as an icy shiver ran down my spine—
I could’ve sworn it was all a dream.
When I opened my eyes, I expected to find myself in my dingy little apartment—twin bed, shitty laptop, 90s-chic TV, window facing out toward a long barren street of East Austin nothing. Slowly, though, it dawned on me what had happened last night.
I was in Mr. IceFire’s bed. And we’d screwed each other’s brains out last night.
I allowed my eyes to adjust to the pale gloom offered by the blood-red curtains and ran a hand through my messy hair, taking a moment to let my surroundings sink in. For its size, it was lavishly decorated, arranged in a mishmash of sleek ebony furniture and bearing various glass trinkets atop the bookshelves in the room. It was obvious his favorite color was red. From the carpet, to the curtains—even the wallpaper matched in contrasting hues, as did the separating trim done in a fine off-white hue.
I wondered what he did to have all this.
I turned my head, expecting to see Guy still sleeping soundly beside me, but found he was nowhere to be seen.
I frowned.
Where could he have gone?
“Guy?” I asked, standing. “Guy? Are you home?”
Crouching, I went about gathering my clothes in preparation for what was likely to be a soon and untimely departure, cursing myself for my stupidity but rejoicing over the fact that I’d had a good time. I couldn’t deny that what I’d experienced last night was nothing short of bliss, but I had to keep reminding myself of the true and sad fact—men like Guy didn’t bring guys like me home. The fact that he’d let me sleep over was a miracle comparable to Moses parting water.
Sighing, I pulled my boxer shorts up my legs and was just about to reach for my pants before I caught sight of a sticky note attached to the lamp on his side of the bed.
Frowning, I navigated around the bed.
Jason, it said.
I plucked the note from the lampshade and lifted it to my eyes.
Don’t leave yet. I went to get us breakfast. Be back in 30.
— Guy
I couldn’t have worn a stupider grin if I tried.
Tossing the pants on the floor, I reached down, grabbed my shirt, and pulled it over my head before I went to search his apartment.