Chapter Two

 

 

 

The camping trip was a great stress reliever. There was enough physical exertion that they were both worn out, but Henry looked happy by the time they left for home on Sunday. John hoped his friend would take some time out of the dating pool and try to find some kind of way to be happy with himself. Granted, he wasn’t a shrink, but it seemed to John that a lot of Henry’s problems with men stemmed from his own lack of confidence. John reckoned it took an insecure person to know one, because he’d never really thought of Henry that way before. Henry laughed a lot, was outgoing and boisterous, but John could see now that it was a camouflage for Henry’s doubts and insecurities.

Maybe he should get that psych degree he used to dream about.

“Come to dinner at Mom’s on Wednesday, she’ll be happy to see you,” John told Henry when they pulled up outside Henry’s house. “I’m going to tell her you’ll be there, so if you don’t show, she’s going to hunt you down and twist your ear until you cry.”

Henry shuddered. “If only you were teasing.” He unbuckled then leaned over and gave John a hug. “Thanks for everything. I’ll give that therapist a call.”

“And Cory,” John added. “You need to call him and apologize again. It wasn’t enough to confess and apologize then.” From what Henry had said, poor Cory had been completely astounded and deeply hurt—and angry.

“He won’t ever take me back,” Henry said, looking just as weary right then as he had on Friday when John had picked him up. “I fucked that up forever. I should never have told him. That whole fessing up thing just hurts the other person. I should know.”

“I don’t think either way of handling cheating is a good one. The best thing to do is not cheat.” John held up a hand when Henry got a belligerent look on his face. “I’m not judging. I’ve cheated once, you know that. That’s how I can say it, because I’ve cheated and been cheated on, too.”

Henry’s anger seemed to leave him deflated as he nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’d forgotten. That was back in high school, though, and it was a girl you cheated on.”

“Still counts,” John said. “And it was probably worse, since she caught me with another boy. I don’t think catching me with another girl would have been so bad.”

That same boy had cheated on him, and John had learned a lesson about faithfulness early on. He’d pretty much avoided anything serious since, then he’d taken a sabbatical from dating and fucking.

“I guess.” Henry rubbed his face with his hands and grunted. He opened his door and glanced away. “You seem to be doing good. I’m glad.”

“Thanks.” John reached over and patted Henry’s shoulder, drawing his attention back. “That’s only because I have a good support network. You know me and my family will be yours, if you’ll let us.”

“Since my family is non-existent.”

“We are your family. You know my folks love you.”

Henry grinned. “And your sisters and brother tolerate me, but your nieces and nephews think I’m the shit.”

John laughed at the apt description of the way his family thought of Henry. “Yeah, to all of that. See you Wednesday.”

“Yeah, thanks for this weekend.” Henry got out, shutting the door gently. After he’d taken his bag from the truck and gone inside, John pulled away from the curb.

They’d had a good weekend—caught lots of fish and fed lots of mosquitoes, despite spraying themselves with repellent. John vowed to be a better friend and not let so much time pass before contacting Henry again. They had cycles like that, where they’d get busy with work or, in Henry’s case, a guy, then they’d need each other and it was like they’d never spent time apart. John supposed that was part of what made them such good friends. Neither one placed demands on the other.

He made it home by six and was delighted to run in to Mrs. Royal and listen to her gush about her church dinner with Mr. Marks. John would have even sworn she was glowing, and he wondered if people in love did that. His parents were usually happy to be with each other—they fought on occasion, like all couples, but even then they were respectful to each other about their disagreements. Did they glow? Maybe, John decided, on special occasions, since their love was so well-worn and grounded by roots of time, family and commitment.

His apartment seemed quiet after a weekend spent with Henry and all sorts of noisy insects. John turned on the TV to chase out the silence, not because he wanted to watch it right then. Later, after he’d taken a long shower, he might plop on the couch and veg out.

John set the shower nozzle to pulse, then turned the water on and got in the stall. He let the warm water massage the muscles in his back and shoulders as he began cleaning himself. When he reached his cock with the soapy washcloth, John saw no reason not to enjoy a luxurious hand job. He dropped the cloth and picked up the bottle of conditioner, preferring it as it didn’t dry out the delicate skin on his shaft.

No rushing for work, and he wasn’t so worn out from camping that he just wanted to get off and sleep. He let his mind jump from fantasy to fantasy until he found one that truly riveted him, involving a faceless man with a nice endowment. John came hard, his legs quivering as he spilled his release onto the tub floor.

Afterward, he turned the water off and got out. Drying off was done half-heartedly, and John dressed in loose sweats that barely stayed up past his ass. He imagined a lover watching him, admiring him. It’ll happen. But Mom’s right, it won’t happen if I stay locked up in my apartment or focus so completely on work.

He might have passed up an opportunity here and there with one of his sales calls, but John would never engage in any kind of sexual activity with a client. That was a risk not worth taking.

It sounded so clichéd, going to church in the hopes of meeting a potential partner, not to mention kind of sacrilegious. John wasn’t overly worried about that, but appearing desperate was certainly unappealing. It was like trolling the grocery store or a truck stop—except he might meet a different class of men than someone only passing through looking for a fuck.

“Won’t hurt, might help, as Dad would say.” John dug a pot pie out of the freezer. He put it in the microwave and was just about to pour himself a glass of milk when the doorbell rang. Since he was thirsty, and he did live alone, he took a swig from the carton then set it down before striding to the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

“Wonder who it is,” he murmured, stopping in front of the door. A check through the peephole had him frowning. In the hall outside John’s place stood a short man with black hair and eyes so dark they could be black, too. He was smiling as big as that creepy striped cat in the cartoon. Maybe I shouldn’t answer. He’ll go away soon if I ignore him.

Of course, he wasn’t going to do that. John called out, “Just a sec.” He unfastened the chain lock, the deadbolt, and the knob lock, then opened the door. “Hi.” He’d intended to say more, but the little guy was very attractive, almost breathtakingly so, and those dark eyes John had noticed through the peephole were something else. Stunning, really, framed as they were with thick lashes that curled up at the tips, and features that all in all should have had the guy on magazine covers. John was tongue-tied in the face of the handsome man.

“Hi. Um. I’m Benji Marks, Mr. Marks’ grandson.” He held out his hand.

John gave himself a mental kick in the buttocks and shook Benji’s smaller, warm hand. “Yeah, I mean, I’m John Weston.” He was an idiot!

Benji’s smile, which wasn’t scary at all without the peephole’s distortion, stretched wider in such a way that his delight couldn’t have been faked. Even his eyes lit up. “I know. Grandpa sent me up here to see if you’d be willing to give him some pointers with Mrs. Royal. He hasn’t dated in years, and I think he has a crush. It’s so cute!” Benji rocked up onto his toes and rubbed his hands together. “Don’t you think it’s cute?”

John bobbed his head, entranced by the vivacious creature chattering away at him.

“Good, so will you help? I don’t know Mrs. Royal. I just moved here from Corpus, so I don’t know anyone other than my Grandpa,” Benji explained. “He said Mrs. Royal thought we should meet, and while we did that, maybe you could offer some tips for him to ‘win her heart’, as Grandpa claims.” He looked up through those lashes at John and his smile turned into something sultry and teasing that had John’s cock trying to stand to attention.

“She’s playing matchmaker, too,” John said after clearing his throat. His face felt hot, and he wished he’d have kept that realization to himself in case he was wrong. “I mean—”

Benji winked at him and tapped on the door jamb. “No, I think you’re right. Can I come in?”

“Oh!” John winced and stepped back, making room for Benji to come in. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t have many visitors. Just mainly family and they barge right on in.”

Benji came in, his walk slow, smooth, confident. He was an attractive man, certainly. John tried not to ogle his rear end too much, but Benji’s ass was one of those marvels of nature, round and plump and high on Benji’s otherwise lean form. He dragged his gaze up and away, turning to shut and lock the door.

“This is a nice place,” Benji said as John flipped the deadbolt. “Looks homey, you know, not like just a place to crash.”

“Thanks. My family keep giving me stuff to hang on the walls or put on shelves.” John looked at his tiny living room. “I had to install shelves to hold it. Really, they get the credit for the decorating. My mom and sisters can’t tolerate a bare wall or unadorned surface. Walking into their homes is like walking into one of those touristy shops where there’s knick-knacks all over, just waiting to either gather dust or get knocked off and broken.” Crap, he was babbling. John pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to shut himself up.

Benji walked over to the shelf beside the window, looking at the various family photos John had placed there. He stroked a blunt finger down the biggest one, framed in silver. “Is this everyone?”

John knew what he meant and unstuck his tongue to answer. “Yeah, that’s Dad, Mom, then from the left on the middle row, my sisters Stacey, Jane and Vivian. That’s my brother Robert beside me on the bottom.”

Benji whistled and glanced back at him. “Wow, that’s a big family.”

John shrugged and came a little closer to peer over Benji’s shoulder at the picture. Benji watched him, and there was something in those dark eyes that made John’s stomach clench. “Not really. I mean, I know the average family is supposed to be made up of two point something kids, but where that’s the norm at, I haven’t a clue. Most of the people I grew up with had at least two siblings, although there were exceptions, of course.” He shrugged again. “Then again, what do I know? When I was kid I thought everyone was like us.”

Benji went back to looking at the picture. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters. In school, it seemed like another thing that made me stand out as different besides my height and being gay. I never thought a closet was anything except a place to hang my admittedly awesome clothes. Are you out?”

John didn’t know what to say about the height thing. Benji was short. If he had to guess, John would put him at five-four, max, not that it mattered. Height had nothing to do with humanity, and Benji was first and foremost a person with feelings. He’d likely been picked on in school, and John felt a pang of sorrow for that.

“I am,” he answered when he realized he’d let the silence stretch into an awkward length. “Sorry. Sometimes I just…drift off. Concentration issues.” Which was the truth, if not all of it, but Benji deserved some sort of explanation. “My family’s been fantastic about it.” John thought back to the numerous safe-sex talks he’d gotten from his parents and siblings. “Well, maybe not fantastic, because sometimes they can be overprotective, but still, they mean well and they haven’t ever tried to tell me I should be anyone other than who I am.”

“You’re very lucky,” Benji whispered, touching another picture frame, this one of John and Henry laughing and holding up fish they’d caught. “He isn’t family. Boyfriend? Or an ex?”

John moved to Benji’s side and picked up the photo. “Nah, this is Henry. He’s been my best friend for a long time. I just got back from a camping trip with him.”

Benji cocked his head and gave him a slanted look. “He’s good looking, and so are you. You’re going to tell me y’all have never messed around?”

A prickle of irritation sparked in John. “I’m not going to tell you anything,” he said with more snark than he’d intended, but damn it, he didn’t owe Benji anything. He thought the question was incredibly rude, considering he had just met the man ten minutes ago. John stepped back and walked over to the lounge chair, where he sat down. Benji was still watching him and John fought the urge to twitch.

Benji finally sighed and looked at the picture again, then back at John. He smiled crookedly, and his tanned cheeks darkened with a blush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just—” Benji waved one hand in the air, trying to convey what, God only knew. He huffed and propped his hand on his hip. “It’s just that you are both so happy in the picture, and I tend to think sex makes people happy.” He grinned then, an impish, sexy little curve of his lips that shot a flash-fire of want right to John’s groin. “And if I was camping with you, I’d be all over you. Your personal living sleeping bag.”

“It’s kind of hot for one of those,” John said stupidly. Benji’s smile wavered and John wanted to slap himself. “I’m an idiot. I don’t do this much.” Or at all, really. That made him sound like a total loser even in his own head.

“This?” Benji asked. “Like, flirting?”

“Yeah,” John muttered. “Like flirting.”

Benji strolled over to him and stopped so close John could feel the heat from the man’s legs on his own. “Do you just go out and get laid, then? You can’t tell me you hole up here and don’t do anything to get off except masturbate. You’re young, attractive—” He stopped and inhaled sharply. “Are you… Do you have— Are you positive?”

John was confused for all of a second, then he was more irritated than he had been earlier. He sat up straighter and glared at Benji. “First off, what is it with you crossing boundaries like they don’t exist? There are things people who just met don’t jump into asking or talking about. I don’t know you or anything and yet you’ve come in here and accused me of screwing around with my best friend no matter what I say, and now you’re asking—”

Benji stopped him by leaning down and kissing him. It wasn’t much of a kiss, because John was so startled he yelped and flung himself backwards, chest heaving as he gawped at Benji.

For his part, Benji watched him with an expression that seemed to convey a mix of confusion and amusement, maybe even exasperation. He finally shook his head and plopped down on John’s couch, pulling one leg up onto the sofa to hook his arms around it as he watched John.

“What?” John squeaked out, torn between being turned on and mortified. Indignation had died down the second Benji’s lips had touched his. It was amazing what one could feel in a second—soft, heat, wet—and a need that hadn’t been so strong in years. John wanted to get off with Benji any way he could, and that wasn’t like him. Not the improved him, at least.

Benji licked his lips and raked his gaze over John. “I just didn’t think you’d be shy. You look confident. A little nervous, maybe, but that’s kind of a turn-on, actually. As for me crossing boundaries, I just find being direct is the quickest route to getting what I want.” He let go of his leg and lowered it so that John could easily see the bulge at Benji’s groin. “I told you, I’m new here. I’m horny, and you’re attractive and available, so I don’t see why we can’t get off together.” He frowned and stared at John’s groin. “Even if you’re positive. I mean, I’ve always played safe, so it wouldn’t be any different, although I have to say, I’m not sure about penetrative sex—”

John had had enough. He stood up and glared down at the presumptuous little prick on the couch. “I’m not—positive, that is—and I’m not interested, either. You’re a bit too forward for me. I don’t fuck around anymore. That isn’t me.”

Benji stood up and got in his face, or as close to it as he could reach, considering their height differences. John stood his ground as Benji stopped short of pressing up against him. The anger on Benji’s face was impressive. John was surprised he wasn’t annihilated on the spot from the heat of it.

“You’re a judgmental asshole, that’s what you are,” Benji growled. “Let me guess. A reformed slut-boy who now thinks he’s too good to fuck around. Saving his newly cherry ass for Mr. Right. You think you’re too good for anyone else, and if I’m not proposing forever, you’re not interested. Well, let me tell you—” He pointed his finger, actually brushing John’s nose with the tip.

John caught his finger and held it. “Enough. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I think that’d be the best way for it to stand.” He wanted to go on, to tell Benji he was in the wrong here, coming into John’s home—a stranger, that’s what Benji and John were to each other—and starting drama. John didn’t feel so much like the unstable one right then. “Mr. Marks only needs to be polite to Mrs. Royal. Take her flowers, mind his manners, treat her well. Same as we should all do to one another, except maybe minus the flowers. I think you should leave now. It’s been…interesting.”

Benji stepped back. He rolled his eyes and huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Whatever. Enjoy spending the rest of your life alone.”

That resonated too much with John’s fears and he had to really work to keep from responding. He had a feeling that if he did, he and Benji would just keep standing there bickering, much like the characters in a kid’s book he’d read years ago. They’d stand there, stubborn and stupid, unmoving and unbending while the world went on around them.

John told himself he was better than that, and Benji probably was too. The guy obviously had issues, but so did he, and he was in no place to judge. Instead John forced himself to walk away. He went to the door, unlocked it then opened it.

Rather than stand there like some creeper, John headed for the kitchen. He was thirsty and needed to get cleaned up, but he wasn’t about to strip down and get in a shower while someone who was obviously pissed off at him was there. He’d seen enough horror movies to know better.

He took a bottle of water from the fridge and opened the cap. The liquid tasted sweet and perfect on his tongue and cooled his parched throat. His stomach rumbled and he wondered what he had in the freezer—and when the hell Benji was going to leave. The man was still standing in his living room.

Finally, after John had tossed the empty bottle of water, Benji uncrossed his arms and stomped to the front door loud enough that John was sure he’d get complaints from the people in the apartment below him. “Dick,” Benji snapped, then he left.

John tried to wrap his head around the bizarre encounter as he locked up the apartment and stripped for his shower. There was no making sense of it. Add his weirdness to Benji’s, and the result was a nonsensical meeting that left him feeling disgusted with himself. Had he been judgmental? Maybe a little. Did he think he was better than the guys who went out and fucked around?

John really didn’t like the answer to that. He sighed and stepped under the hot water. It wasn’t that he was better than the people who screwed around. He just couldn’t do the same without judging himself and plunging into a depressive state that made functioning hard if not impossible.

But he realized later, as he lay in bed staring at the utter blackness in front of him, that he used his depression as a means of keeping people away from him. Not his family, not Henry, but anyone else, anyone who might be an unknown risk, who might break his heart.

Maybe Benji wasn’t totally wrong when he called me a dick. God, life is so complicated sometimes, when all we really have to do is live and die.

John closed his eyes and promised himself a good examining during his next therapy appointment. Maybe Dr. Hannah could help him figure out the mess that was his lack of sex life. Society judged a person for being sexually active, and they judged you for not having sex. John needed to figure out what he thought was right, because whereas he’d believed he’d known the answer to that, Benji had shaken him up and made him question his reasons for what he did and didn’t do.