Robin brushed his hair out, letting it fall to his shoulders in a dark wave. On Sundays he usually liked to dress up, go downtown to shop and meet friends for lunch. He couldn’t bring himself to care this morning. He pulled on black jeans, the charcoal gray tee shirt he was going to wear hanging on the clothes hook on the wall.
He stared at his face in the mirror, scrubbed clean in the shower. Yesterday had been a disaster. What had he been thinking? A stray tear glittered on a lash and he impatiently dashed it away with a shaky hand. For just a small moment in time he’d felt truly accepted, that Jase saw him for who he was and wanted him. Not despite his flaws but because of them. But who could want someone like him? A man who felt more feminine at times than he should, who liked to wear pretty things and be petted and admired? What a fucking freak.
The face in the mirror reflected his sadness back at him, loneliness shimmering deep in the brown eyes. He dropped his gaze to his lean chest, nipples pale pink on his white skin. A shiver passed through him. Don’t look further. Put his shirt on and start the day. But his attention turned to his arms. It had been hard explaining the intricate weave of scars on his forearms to Jase, souvenirs of the cutting he’d done in high school. God, what he wouldn’t give for that pain now, anything to drive off the anguish eating at his heart.
Almost by its own volition, his hand reached for the top drawer under the sink and pulled it open. Jase’s double edged razor and spare blades glittered in the bathroom light. Robin’s hand was unexpectedly steady when he lifted a razor blade and pulled off the cardboard sheath. Before he could think about it too much, he touched an old scar on his forearm with the tip and traced it downwards. Exquisite pain bordering on pleasure shuddered through him. He quickly carved another line, a sob rising in his throat.
Almost instantly, a strange, frightening peace come over him and for the briefest instant he wondered what it would be like to slice open his arms and let his life bleed out into the bathwater. It would be the end of loneliness and this hurt inside that never quite went away.
He drew a shuddering breath. No. Intentionally, he put down the razor blade and washed the blood off his arm. Wrapping gauze around the thin cuts, he put the blade back in its cardboard sheath. About to throw it away, he glowered at the trash bin. Where were his dress and shoes? Didn’t matter. He tossed the razor blade into the bin then scowled at his tee shirt hanging by the door. He went back to the bedroom to get a long-sleeved charcoal colored shirt. With luck, no one would notice the cuts until they’d healed.
He added a maroon tie to his outfit. Sadness touched his face as he loosely knotted the slim splash of color at his neck but he pushed it aside. Maybe Jase had changed his mind about him. Seemed like it, after the way he left their bed this morning without a word. But he wouldn’t be alone forever. Would he? Maybe if he toned down his looks, hid the side of himself that liked pretty bangles and glitter and brightly colored clothes.
Would Jase give him a second chance if he promised to never wear a dress again? If he kept his scarves and skirts and passion for lip gloss at home where no one would see them? Clothes didn’t make the man, after all.
Robin swallowed a sigh, wiping at the tears stinging his eyes. He’d go to work for something to do and call Jase later, asking if they could talk. Surely the man would give him another chance? Or was Jase too disgusted with him? He had made a fool of himself, running out on his parents’ anniversary dinner like that.
His face fell as he listened to the doubts crowding his mind. Why hadn’t Jase come home to him last night? He’d wanted to talk to him, explain why he’d been hurt by Jase’s rejection. Had Jase gone out afterward, found someone who was more of a man than Robin to hold in his arms, to go down on him, fuck him the way Robin had dreamed of doing that very afternoon? It seemed likely, the way Jase hadn’t touched him this morning.
He bit his trembling lips, stopping in the bathroom on his way out to run sculpting gel through his hair as a boost of confidence. The tousled look always worked for him. Grabbing up his backpack, he exited into the garage for his bike and wheeled it outside into the warm summer morning. He peddled the few miles to his father’s business office, guiding it through the open door.
“Hey Mom,” he called as he stored the bike in the break room.
“Hi, sweetheart. What are you doing here?” His mother looked up from the file cabinet, eyes widening when she saw him. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Just needed something to do for a few hours. Thought I’d start on this quarter’s inventory.”
“All right. Let me know if I can help.”
Robin appreciated her not asking the questions he knew trembled on the tip of her tongue. His mother meant well, but he didn’t think he could handle sympathy at the moment. And it wouldn’t do for her to find out he’d cut that morning. It had broken her heart before. Pulling out the chair at his desk, he sat and lifted the large ledger out of the bottom drawer. Everything was on the computer, but his dad liked to have a hard copy on hand also, just in case.
He spent several hours poring over the numbers, matching them against the inventory sheets. Or at least he tried to. By eleven o’clock he gave up, Jase’s face coming between him and the black and red marks on the pages. His mother had already left, and he locked away his papers, fetched his bike, and rode to the coffee shop around the corner. Ordering a sandwich and iced latte, he found an empty table by the window and sat, pulling his phone from his pocket.
No messages. He hadn’t really expected one. Chewing his bottom lip until it grew painful, he finally sent a text to Jase, asking if they could talk. An answer came back immediately. Yes, they needed to talk, and Jase would meet him in twenty minutes at the coffee shop. Robin wasn’t sure if that was good news or not. What would Jase tell him?
“Mind if I sit down?”
Robin glanced up, startled out of his thoughts when a man took the chair opposite him at the table. He blinked in surprise. “I know you.”
“From last night. I saw you through the window.” The waiter from the restaurant where they’d had dinner held out his hand. “I’m Patrick Austin.”
“Robin.” Robin shook the outstretched hand, liking the man’s firm grip, though the dark blue gaze resting on his face was disconcerting. The man was too beautiful to be real. Was his hair naturally that dark and wavy?
“Mind if I sit here and have my coffee?” Patrick asked as a waiter moved towards them with Robin’s sandwich and drink.
Robin glanced at his watch. “I’m meeting my boyfriend—”
“Then I’ll only stay until he gets here.” Patrick ordered an espresso then turned back to him. Robin wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or made uncomfortable by the man’s intense stare.
A lovely smile curled on the sensual lips. “I wanted to tell you last night, appropriate or not, that you looked divine in that white dress.” His gaze ran over Robin’s shirt and tie. “Why aren’t you in a dress today?”
“That had been a special occasion.” Why was he explaining himself to this stranger?
The man leaned toward him, his cologne once again teasing Robin’s senses, his breath warm in Robin’s ear. “Baby, if you were mine, I’d dress you in silk and lace every day, with the sexiest lingerie underneath, sweet and naughty all at once.”
“Excuse me?” Robin moved back in his chair. The man was dressing him now?
Patrick’s blue eyes shifted from Robin’s lips to his tie and lower, lingering on the soft swell of his nipples the shirt couldn’t hide. The man’s white teeth bit that full bottom lip and Robin’s nipples hardened, his cock stirring to life. Dammit! Was the guy trying to seduce him right here in the coffee shop? And why was he responding? His ego was the size of a football field.
With the thought, Robin’s gaze dropped immediately to the man’s lap and the rather impressive bulge there. Heat spread through him. The guy was bound to be gorgeous everywhere.
What the fuck? He shouldn’t be thinking about the man’s cock. He sat up and reached for his latte, Patrick’s knowing chuckle sending the hot blood surging to his face. The brush of the man’s fingers on his arm made him jump, almost spilling the hot beverage.
“Easy, baby,” Patrick murmured, the low timber of his voice like velvet on Robin’s nerve endings, sending a pleasant shiver through him. The next words made him clench his hand. “What are you hiding from, sugar? There are lots of pretty guys out there trying the femme look, but you’re the real deal. Soft and sexy. You need to be in dresses and skirts that cling to your sweet body, hair piled high on top of your head, showing that delicious neck and collar bone I so want to nibble on.”
Robin pointedly glanced at his phone on the table, checking the time. He heard Patrick’s smothered curse and bit his lips against a smile, flattered by the handsome man’s attention, though the guy wanted to make him into his living doll.
Patrick stood and took a card from his wallet, scribbled something on the back. He suddenly swooped and brushed his lips against Robin’s cheek. “Call me when you want a man who’ll appreciate you,” he murmured hoarsely, and put the card down on the table by Robin’s sandwich. Patrick’s hand lingered on his shoulder, then he sighed and moved across the room, intercepting his coffee from the barista and sitting at the counter.
Robin looked at his phone again and a line formed between his shaped brows. Ten minutes late and no message. Maybe for the best. It would have been hard to explain why he’d been talking with Patrick, since Jase knew he’d been attracted to the guy. Though perhaps Jase wouldn’t care. Robin chewed a nail, finding it hard to ignore the insecurities and self-doubt he’d put away when he’d first gotten together with Jase.
He ate his sandwich slowly, stalling for time, but after nearly an hour he had to admit that Jase wasn’t coming. And still no message. Robin texted him a line of question marks, then carried his dishes to the counter and exited the shop. Patrick had left some time before with a hard look in his direction. Robin took his card from his pocket and tore it into pieces, tossing it into the trash by the door. Last thing he needed was another man wanting him to be something he wasn’t.
Sure, he liked to wear pretty clothes, but there were also times he felt more boyish and dressed accordingly. Why was that so hard for people to accept? He received a few admiring glances as he unlocked his bike but ignored them. People seemed to like his slim build and cute face. But if he’d been in a skirt and blouse, those looks would have been entirely different, mocking and sometimes filled with hate. It was all so confusing. He felt he had to suppress a part of himself to make other people feel more comfortable. It wasn’t fair.
He looked at his phone again. Still nothing. Jase had mumbled something about working today. Surely someone would have been called if he’d been hurt on the job? Something must have come up. To be on the safe side, Robin peddled back to the office, letting himself into the quiet building. No messages were waiting on the machine. He checked the work orders. Jase would be at a work site near the college.
Robin ran a hand over his hair and sighed. It would take forty-five minutes for him to cross town. He checked the work order again and called the foreman. No answer there either, and the list showing who else would be at the site today hadn’t been left on the desk. He texted a few of the guys he assumed would be there, asking them to call him if they had any news. Grabbing a bottle of water from the small refrigerator in the break room, he headed back outside and climbed on his bike.
The afternoon was growing warm, and Robin was sweating by the time he reached the new track of houses just off of Sixth Street. Winding through the quiet neighborhood, he had to acknowledge the crew must have finished up early and left. So where the fuck was Jase? He had a texted reply from one of the guys cheerfully stating he had the day off and had no idea where Jase was. Had he tried the porn shop? Ha ha.
Discouraged, Robin turned his bike homeward. Maybe Jase would be waiting there for him. He should have fucking called. Angry and more than a little worried, the miles zipped by under his tires. Maybe he wouldn’t go home. Screw Jase. He’d call up some friends and spend the afternoon shopping at Jantzen Beach then get dinner somewhere. Let Jase worry about him.
God, he hated this.